#it’s a song about a beautiful woman whom everyone wants but no one knows

[ladycatofwinterfell]

Feeling so much pain at knowing I have the song for Louis but it’s a song in Swedish from a band with *checks spotify* 56 monthly listeners and the song itself is from 1982 and has *checks again* 2500 streams. Another one of god’s cruel tricks.

[etz-ashashiyot]

Chapter 4: Executed Jews

By Dara Horn, excerpted from People Love Dead Jews

ALA ZUSKIN PERELMAN AND I HAD BEEN IN TOUCH ONLINE before I finally met her in person, and I still cannot quite believe she exists. Years ago, I wrote a novel about Marc Chagall and the Yiddish-language artists whom he once knew in Russia, all of whom were eventually murdered by the Soviet regime. While researching the novel, I found myself sucked into the bizarre story of these people's exploitation and destruction: how the Soviet Union first welcomed these artists as exemplars of universal human ideals, then used them for its own purposes, and finally executed them. I named my main character after the executed Yiddish actor Benjamin Zuskin, a comic performer known for playing fools. After the book came out, I heard from Ala in an email written in halting English: "I am Benjamin Zuskin's daughter." That winter I was speaking at a literary conference in Israel, where Ala lived, and she and I arranged to meet. It was like meeting a character from a book.

My hosts had generously put me up with other writers in a beautiful stone house in Jerusalem. We were there during Hanukkah, the celebration of Jewish independence. On the first night of the holiday, I walked to Jerusalem's Old City and watched as people lit enormous Hanukkah torches at the Western Wall. I thought of my home in New Jersey, where in school growing up I sang fake English Hanukkah songs created by American music education companies at school Christmas concerts, with lyrics describing Hanukkah as being about "joy and peace and love." Joy and peace and love describe Hanukkah, a commemoration of an underdog military victory over a powerful empire, about as well as they describe the Fourth of July. I remembered challenging a chorus teacher about one such song, and being told that I was a poor sport for disliking joy and peace and love. (Imagine a "Christmas song" with lyrics celebrating Christmas, the holiday of freedom. Doesn't everyone like freedom? What pedant would reject such a song?) I sang those words in front of hundreds of people to satisfy my neighbors that my tradition was universal — meaning, just like theirs. The night before meeting Ala, I walked back to the house through the dense stone streets of the Old City's Jewish Quarter, where every home had a glass case by its door, displaying the holiday's oil lamps. It was strange to see those hundreds of glowing lights. They were like a shining announcement that this night of celebration was shared by all these strangers around me, that it was universal. The experience was so unfamiliar that I didn't know what to make of it.

The next morning, Ala knocked on the door of the stone house and sat down in its living room, with its view of the Old City. She was a small dark-haired woman whose perfect posture showed a firmness that belied her age. She looked at me and said in Hebrew, "I feel as if you knew my father, like you understood what he went through. How did you know?"

The answer to that question goes back several thousand years.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The teenage boys who participated in competitive athletics in the gymnasium in Jerusalem 2,200 years ago had their circumcisions reversed, because otherwise they wouldn't have been allowed to play. In the Hellenistic empire that had conquered Judea, sports were sacred, the entry point to being a person who mattered, the ultimate height of cool — and sports, of course, were always played in the nude. As one can imagine, ancient genital surgery of this nature was excruciating and potentially fatal. But the boys did not want to miss out.

I learned this fun fact in seventh grade, from a Hebrew school teacher who was instructing me and my pubescent classmates about the Hanukkah story — about how Hellenistic tyranny gained a foothold in ancient Judea with the help of Jews who wanted to fit in. This teacher seemed overly jazzed to talk about penises with a bunch of adolescents, and I suspected he'd made the whole thing up. At home, I decided to fact-check. I pulled a dusty old book off my parents' shelf, Volume One of Heinrich Graetz's opus History of the Jews.

In nineteenth-century academic prose, Graetz explained how the leaders of Judea demonstrated their loyalty to the occupying Hellenistic empire by building a gymnasium and recruiting teenage athletes — only to discover that "in uncovering their bodies they could immediately be recognized as Judeans. But were they to take part in the Olympian games, and expose themselves to the mockery of Greek scoffers? Even this difficulty they evaded by undergoing a painful operation, so as to disguise the fact that they were Judeans." Their Zeus-worshipping overlords were not fooled. Within a few years, the regime outlawed not only circumcision but all of Jewish religious practice, and put to death anyone who didn't comply.

Sometime after that, the Maccabees showed up. That's the part of the story we usually hear.

Those ancient Jewish teenagers were on my mind that Hanukkah when Ala came to tell me about her father's terrifying life, because I sensed that something profound united them — something that doesn't match what we're usually taught about what bigotry looks or feels like. It doesn't involve "intolerance" or "persecution," at least not at first. Instead, it looks like the Jews themselves are choosing to reject their own traditions. It is a form of weaponized shame.

Two distinct patterns of antisemitism can be identified by the Jewish holidays that celebrate triumphs over them: Purim and Hanukkah. In the Purim version of antisemitism, exemplified by the Persian genocidal decrees in the biblical Book of Esther, the goal is openly stated and unambiguous: Kill all the Jews. In the Hanukkah version of antisemitism, whose appearances range from the Spanish Inquisition to the Soviet regime, the goal is still to eliminate Jewish civilization. But in the Hanukkah version, this goal could theoretically be accomplished simply by destroying Jewish civilization, while leaving the warm, de-Jewed bodies of its former practitioners intact.

For this reason, the Hanukkah version of antisemitism often employs Jews as its agents. It requires not dead Jews but cool Jews: those willing to give up whatever specific aspect of Jewish civilization is currently uncool. Of course, Judaism has always been uncool, going back to its origins as the planet's only monotheism, featuring a bossy and unsexy invisible God. Uncoolness is pretty much Judaism's brand, which is why cool people find it so threatening — and why Jews who are willing to become cool are absolutely necessary to Hanukkah antisemitism's success. These "converted" Jews are used to demonstrate the good intentions of the regime — which of course isn't antisemitic but merely requires that its Jews publicly flush thousands of years of Jewish civilization down the toilet in exchange for the worthy prize of not being treated like dirt, or not being murdered. For a few years. Maybe.

I wish I could tell the story of Ala's father concisely, compellingly, the way everyone prefers to hear about dead Jews. I regret to say that Benjamin Zuskin wasn't minding his own business and then randomly stuffed into a gas chamber, that his thirteen-year-old daughter did not sit in a closet writing an uplifting diary about the inherent goodness of humanity, that he did not leave behind sad-but-beautiful aphorisms pondering the absence of God while conveniently letting his fellow humans off the hook. He didn't even get crucified for his beliefs. Instead, he and his fellow Soviet Jewish artists — extraordinarily intelligent, creative, talented, and empathetic adults — were played for fools, falling into a slow-motion psychological horror story brimming with suspense and twisted self-blame. They were lured into a long game of appeasing and accommodating, giving up one inch after another of who they were in order to win that grand prize of being allowed to live.

Spoiler alert: they lost.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was in graduate school studying Yiddish literature, itself a rich vein of discussion about such impossible choices, when I became interested in Soviet Jewish artists like Ala's father. As I dug through library collections of early-twentieth-century Yiddish works, I came across a startling number of poetry books illustrated by Marc Chagall. I wondered if Chagall had known these Yiddish writers whose works he illustrated, and it turned out that he had. One of Chagall's first jobs as a young man was as an art teacher at a Jewish orphanage near Moscow, built for children orphaned by Russia's 1919-1920 civil war pogroms. This orphanage had a rather renowned faculty, populated by famous Yiddish writers who trained these traumatized children in the healing art of creativity.

It all sounded very lovely, until I noticed something else. That Chagall's art did not rely on a Jewish language — that it had, to use that insidious phrase, "universal appeal" — allowed him a chance to succeed as an artist in the West. The rest of the faculty, like Chagall, had also spent years in western Europe before the Russian revolution, but they chose to return to Russia because of the Soviet Union's policy of endorsing Yiddish as a "national Soviet language." In the 1920s and 30s, the USSR offered unprecedented material support to Yiddish culture, paying for Yiddish-language schools, theaters, publishing houses, and more, to the extent that there were Yiddish literary critics who were salaried by the Soviet government. This support led the major Yiddish novelist Dovid Bergelson to publish his landmark 1926 essay "Three Centers," about New York, Warsaw, and Moscow as centers of Yiddish-speaking culture, asking which city offered Yiddish writers the brightest prospects. His unequivocal answer was Moscow, a choice that brought him back to Russia the following year, where many other Jewish artists joined him.

But Soviet support for Jewish culture was part of a larger plan to brainwash and coerce national minorities into submitting to the Soviet regime — and for Jews, it came at a very specific price. From the beginning, the regime eliminated anything that celebrated Jewish "nationality" that didn't suit its needs. Jews were awesome, provided they weren't practicing Jewish religion, studying traditional Jewish texts, using Hebrew, or supporting Zionism. The Soviet Union thus pioneered a versatile gaslighting slogan, which it later spread through its client states in the developing world and which remains popular today: it was not antisemitic, merely anti-Zionist. (In the process of not being antisemitic and merely being anti-Zionist, the regime managed to persecute, imprison, torture, and murder thousands of Jews.) What's left of Jewish culture once you surgically remove religious practice, traditional texts, Hebrew, and Zionism? In the Soviet Empire, one answer was Yiddish, but Yiddish was also suspect for its supposedly backwards elements. Nearly 15 percent of its words came directly from biblical and rabbinic Hebrew, so Soviet Yiddish schools and publishers, under the guise of "simplifying" spelling, implemented a new and quite literally antisemitic spelling system that eliminated those words' Near Eastern roots. Another answer was "folklore" — music, visual art, theater, and other creative work reflecting Jewish life — but of course most of that cultural material was also deeply rooted in biblical and rabbinic sources, or reflected common religious practices like Jewish holidays and customs, so that was treacherous too.

No, what the regime required were Yiddish stories that showed how horrible traditional Jewish practice was, stories in which happy, enlightened Yiddish-speaking heroes rejected both religion and Zionism (which, aside from its modern political form, is also a fundamental feature of ancient Jewish texts and prayers traditionally recited at least three times daily). This de-Jewing process is clear from the repertoire of the government-sponsored Moscow State Yiddish Theater, which could only present or adapt Yiddish plays that denounced traditional Judaism as backward, bourgeois, corrupt, or even more explicitly — as in the many productions involving ghosts or graveyard scenes — as dead. As its actors would be, soon enough.

The Soviet Union's destruction of Jewish culture commenced, in a calculated move, with Jews positioned as the destroyers. It began with the Yevsektsiya, committees of Jewish Bolsheviks whose paid government jobs from 1918 through 1930 were to persecute, imprison, and occasionally murder Jews who participated in religious or Zionist institutions — categories that included everything from synagogues to sports clubs, all of which were shut down and their leaders either exiled or "purged." This went on, of course, until the regime purged the Yevsektsiya members themselves.

The pattern repeated in the 1940s. As sordid as the Yeveksiya chapter was, I found myself more intrigued by the undoing of the Jewish Antifascist Committee, a board of prominent Soviet Jewish artists and intellectuals established by Joseph Stalin in 1942 to drum up financial support from Jews overseas for the Soviet war effort. Two of the more prominent names on the JAC's roster of talent were Solomon Mikhoels, the director of the Moscow State Yiddish Theater, and Ala's father Benjamin Zuskin, the theater's leading actor. After promoting these people during the war, Stalin decided these loyal Soviet Jews were no longer useful, and charged them all with treason. He had decided that this committee he himself created was in fact a secret Zionist cabal, designed to bring down the Soviet state. Mikhoels was murdered first, in a 1948 hit staged to look like a traffic accident. Nearly all the others — Zuskin and twelve more Jewish luminaries, including the novelist Dovid Bergelson, who had proclaimed Moscow as the center of the Yiddish future — were executed by firing squad on August 1952.

Just as the regime accused these Jewish artists and intellectuals of being too "nationalist" (read: Jewish), today's long hindsight makes it strangely tempting to read this history and accuse them of not being "nationalist" enough — that is, of being so foolishly committed to the Soviet regime that they were unable to see the writing on the wall. Many works on this subject have said as much. In Stalin's Secret Pogrom, the indispensable English translation of transcripts from the JAC "trial," Russia scholar Joshua Rubenstein concludes his lengthy introduction with the following:

As for the defendants at the trial, it is not clear what they believed about the system they each served. Their lives darkly embodied the tragedy of Soviet Jewry. A combination of revolutionary commitment and naive idealism had tied them to a system they could not renounce. Whatever doubts or misgivings they had, they kept to themselves, and served the Kremlin with the required enthusiasm. They were not dissidents. They were Jewish martyrs. They were also Soviet patriots. Stalin repaid their loyalty by destroying them.

This is completely true, and also completely unfair. The tragedy — even the term seems unjust, with its implied blaming of the victim — was not that these Soviet Jews sold their souls to the devil, though many clearly did. The tragedy was that integrity was never an option in the first place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ala was almost thirteen years old when her father was arrested and until that moment she was immersed in the Soviet Yiddish artistic scene. Her mother was also an actor in the Moscow State Yiddish Theater; her family lived in the same building as the murdered theater director Solomon Mikhoels, and moved in the same circles as other Jewish actors and writers. After seeing her parents perform countless times, Ala had a front-row seat to the destruction of their world. She attended Mikhoel's state funeral, heard about the arrest of the brilliant Yiddish author Der Nister from an actor friend who witnessed it from her apartment across the hall, and was present when secret police ransacked her home in conjunction with her father's arrest. In her biography, The Travels of Benjamin Zuskin, she provides for her readers what she gave me that morning in Jerusalem: an emotional recounting, with the benefit of hindsight, of what it was really like to live through the Soviet Jewish nightmare.

It's as close as we can get, anyway. Her father Benjamin Zuskin's own thoughts on the topic are available only from state interrogations extracted under unknown tortures. (One typical interrogation document from his three and a half years in the notorious Lubyanka Prison announces that the day's interrogation lasted four hours, but the transcript is only half a page long — leaving to the imagination how the interrogator and interrogatee may have spent their time together. Suffice it to say that another JAC detainee didn't make it to trial alive.) His years in prison began when he was arrested in December of 1948 in a Moscow hospital room, where he was being treated for chronic insomnia brought on by the murder of his boss and career-long acting partner, Mikhoels; the secret police strapped him to a gurney and carted him to prison in his hospital gown while he was still sedated.

But in order to truly appreciate the loss here, one needs to know what was lost — to return to the world of the great Yiddish writer Sholem Aleichem, the author of Benjamin Zuskin's first role on the Yiddish stage, in a play fittingly titled It's a Lie!

Benjamin Zuskin's path to the Yiddish theater and later to the Soviet firing squad began in a shtetl comparable to those immortalized in Sholem Aleichem's work. Zuskin, a child from a traditional family who was exposed to theater only through traveling Yiddish troupes and clowning relatives, experienced that world's destruction: his native Lithuanian shtetl, Ponievezh, was among the many Jewish towns forcibly evacuated during the First World War, catapulting him and hundreds of thousands of other Jewish refugees into modernity. He landed in Penza, a city with professional Russian theater and Yiddish amateur troupes. In 1920, the Moscow State Yiddish Theater opened, and by 1921, Zuskin was starring alongside Mikhoels, the theater's leading light.

In the one acting class I have ever attended, I learned only one thing: acting isn't about pretending to be someone you aren't, but rather about emotional communication. Zuskin, who not only starred in most productions but also taught in the theater's acting school, embodied the concept. His very first audition was a one-man sketch he created, consisting of nothing more than a bumbling old tailor threading a needle — without words, costumes, or props. It became so popular that he performed it to entranced crowds for years. This physical artistry animated his every role. As one critic wrote, "Even the slightest breeze and he is already air-bound."

Zuskin specialized in playing figures like the Fool in King Lear — as his daughter puts it in her book, characters who "are supposed to make you laugh, but they have an additional dimension, and they arouse poignant reflections about the cruelty of the world." Discussing his favorite roles, Zuskin once explained that "my heart is captivated particularly by the image of the person who is derided and humiliated, but who loves life, even though he encounters obstacles placed before him through no fault of his own."

The first half of Ala's book seems to recount only triumphs. The theater's repertoire in its early years was largely adopted from classic Yiddish writers like Sholem Aleichem, I. L. Peretz, and Mendele Moykher Seforim. The book's title is drawn from Zuskin's most famous role: Senderl, the Sancho Panza figure in Mendele's Don Quixote-inspired work, Travels of Benjamin the Third, about a pair of shtetl idiots who set out for the Land of Israel and wind up walking around the block. These productions were artistically inventive, brilliantly acted, and played to packed houses both at home and on tour. Travels of Benjamin the Third, in a 1928 review typical of the play's reception, was lauded by the New York Times as "one of the most originally conceived and beautifully executed evenings in the modern theater."

One of the theater's landmark productions, I. L. Peretz's surrealist masterpiece At Night in the Old Marketplace, was first performed in 1925. The play, set in a graveyard, is a kind of carnival for the graveyard's gathered ghosts. Those who come back from the dead are misfits like drunks and prostitutes, and also specific figures from shtetl life - yeshiva idlers, synagogue beadles, and the like. Leading them all is a badkhn, or wedding jester — divided in this production into two mirror-characters played by Mikhoels and Zuskin — whose repeated chorus among the living corpses is "The dead will rise!" "Within this play there was something hidden, something with an ungraspable depth," Ala writes, and then relates how after a performance in Vienna, one theatergoer came backstage to tell the director that "the play had shaken him as something that went beyond all imagination." The theatergoer was Sigmund Freud.

As Ala traces the theater's trajectory toward doom, it becomes obvious why this performance so affected Freud. The production was a zombie story about the horrifying possibility of something supposedly dead (here, Jewish civilization) coming back to life. The play was written a generation earlier as a Romantic work, but in the Moscow production, it became a means of denigrating traditional Jewish life without mourning it. That fantasy of a culture's death as something compelling and even desirable is not merely reminiscent of Freud's death drive, but also reveals the self-destructive bargain implicit in the entire Soviet-sponsored Jewish enterprise. In her book, Ala beautifully captures this tension as she explains the badkhn's role: "He sends a double message: he denies the very existence of the vanishing shadow world, and simultaneously he mocks it, as if it really does exist."

This double message was at the heart of Benjamin Zuskin's work as a comic Soviet Yiddish actor, a position that required him to mock the traditional Jewish life he came from while also pretending that his art could exist without it. "The chance to make fun of the shtetl which has become a thing of the past charmed me," he claimed early on, but later, according to his daughter, he began to privately express misgivings. The theater's decision to stage King Lear as a way of elevating itself disturbed him, suggesting as it did that the Yiddish repertoire was inferior. His own integrity came from his deep devotion to yiddishkayt, a sense of essential and enduring Jewishness, no matter how stripped-down that identity had become. "With the sharp sense of belonging to everything Jewish, he was tormented by the theater forsaking its expression of this belonging," his daughter writes. Even so, "no, he could not allow himself to oppose the Soviet regime even in his thoughts, the regime that gave him his own theater, but 'the heart and the wit do not meet.'"

In Ala's memory, her father differed from his director, partner, and occasional rival, Mikhoels, in his complete disinterest in politics. Mikhoels was a public figure as well as performer, and his leadership of the Jewish Antifascist Committee, while no more voluntary than any public act in a totalitarian state, was a role he played with gusto, traveling to America in 1943 and speaking to thousands of American Jews to raise money for the Red Army in their battle against the Nazis. Zuskin, on the other hand, was on the JAC roster, but seems to have continued playing the fool. According to both his daughter and his trial testimony, his role in the JAC was almost identical to his role on a Moscow municipal council, limited to playing chess in the back of the room during meetings.

In Jerusalem, Ala told me that her father was "a pure soul." "He had no interest in politics, only in his art," she said, describing his acting style as both classic and contemporary, praised by critics for its timeless qualities that are still evident today in his film work. But his talent was the most nuanced and sophisticated thing about him. Offstage, he was, as she put it in Hebrew, a "tam" — a biblical term sometimes translated as fool or simpleton, but which really means an innocent. (It is the first adjective used to describe the title character in the Book of Job.) It is true that in trial transcripts, Zuskin comes out looking better than many of his co-defendants by playing dumb instead of pointing fingers. But was this ignorance, or a wise acceptance of the futility of trying to save his skin? As King Lear's Fool put it, "They'll have me whipp'd for speaking true; thou'lt have me whipp'd for holding my peace." Reflecting on her father's role as a fool named Pinia in a popular film, Ala writes in her book, "When I imagine the moment when my father heard his death sentence, I see Pinia in close-up . . . his shoulders slumped, despair in his appearance. I hear the tone that cannot be imitated in his last line in the film — and perhaps also the last line in his life? — 'I don't understand anything.'"

Yet it is clear that Zuskin deeply understood how impossible his situation was. In one of the book's more disturbing moments, Ala describes him rehearsing for one of his landmark roles, that of the comic actor Hotsmakh in Sholem Aleichem's Wandering Stars, a work whose subject is the Yiddish theater. He had played the role before, but this production was going up in the wake of Mikhoel's murder. Zuskin was already among the hunted, and he knew it. As Ala writes:

One morning — already after the murder of Mikhoels — I saw my father pacing the room and memorizing the words of Hotsmakh's role. Suddenly, in a gesture revealing a hopeless anguish, Father actually threw himself at me, hugged me, pressed me to his heart, and together with me, continued to pace the room and to memorize the words of the role. That evening I saw the performance . . . "The doctors say that I need rest, air, and the sea . . . For what . . . without the theater?" [Hotsmakh asks], he winds the scarf around his neck — as though it were a noose. For my father, I think those words of Hotsmakh were like the motif of the role and — I think — of his own life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Describing the charges levied against Zuskin and his peers is a degrading exercise, for doing so makes it seem as though these charges are worth considering. They are not. It is at this point that Hanukkah antisemitism transformed, as it inevitably does, into Purim antisemitism. Here Ala offers what hundreds of pages of state archives can't, describing the impending horror of the noose around one's neck.

Her father stopped sleeping, began receiving anonymous threats, and saw that he was being watched. No conversation was safe. When a visitor from Poland waited near his apartment building to give him news of his older daughter Tamara (who was then living in Warsaw), Zuskin instructed the man to walk behind him while speaking to him and then to switch directions, so as to avoid notice. When the man asked Zuskin what he wanted to tell his daughter, Zuskin "approached the guest so closely that there was no space between them, and whispered in Yiddish, 'Tell her that the ground is burning beneath my feet.'" It is true that no one can know what Zuskin or any of the other defendants really believed about the Soviet system they served. It is also true — and far more devastating — that their beliefs were utterly irrelevant.

Ala and her mother were exiled to Kazakhstan after her father's arrest, and learned of his execution only when they were allowed to return to Moscow in 1955. By then, he had already been dead for three years.

In Jerusalem that morning, Ala told me, in a sudden private moment of anger and candor, that the Soviet Union's treatment of the Jews was worse than Nazi Germany's. I tried to argue, but she shut me up. Obviously the Nazi atrocities against Jews were incomparable, a fact Ala later acknowledged in a calmer mood. But over four generations, the Soviet regime forced Jews to participate in and internalize their own humiliation - and in that way, Ala suggested, they destroyed far more souls. And they never, ever, paid for it.

"They never had a Nuremberg," Ala told me that day, with a quiet fury. "They never acknowledged the evil of what they did. The Nazis were open about what they were doing, but the Soviets pretended. They lured the Jews in, they baited them with support and recognition, they used them, they tricked them, and then they killed them. It was a trap. And no one knows about it, even now. People know about the Holocaust, but not this. Even here in Israel, people don't know. How did you know?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That evening I went out to the Old City again, to watch the torches being lit at the Western Wall for the second night of Hanukkah. I walked once more through the Jewish Quarter, where the oil lamps, now each bearing one additional flame, were displayed outside every home, following the tradition to publicize the Hanukkah miracle — not merely the legendary long-lasting oil, but the miracle of military and spiritual victory over a coercive empire, the freedom to be uncool, the freedom not to pretend. Somewhere nearby, deep underground, lay the ruins of the gymnasium where de-circumcised Jewish boys once performed naked before approving crowds, stripped of their integrity and left with their private pain. I thought of Benjamin Zuskin performing as the dead wedding jester, proclaiming, "The dead will rise!" and then performing again in a "superior" play, as King Lear's Fool. I thought of the ground burning beneath his feet. I thought of his daughter, Ala, now an old woman, walking through Jerusalem.

I am not a sentimental person. As I returned to the stone house that night, along the streets lit by oil lamps, I was surprised to find myself crying.

[titaswrld]

you know me

description: ron and reader being friends, they both know it looks so weird of them to be so touchy when they’re just friends but they both love the physical affection and connection they have…what’s so wrong with that?

paring: ron weasley x reader

contains: song fic, fluff, friendship, lowk fwb…except it’s just platonic lol. for now..

song: juna by clairo.

w.c: 974

|an: kinda a self indulgent fic but i hope you guys love it too! i love love love ron and ive had this idea for a while, part two is going to be smutty.

part one part two

come to me slowly

it's when you talk close enough

that is feel it on my skin

breathe it in

your best friend. that’s all he was really; at least that’s what you thought. there had always been a lingering feeling, a what-if that always crossed your mind, but that thought was always pushed back into the back of your head. you and ron were friends, nothing more, nothing less.

little did you know, he felt the same. you were one of the most important people in his life; he would put you up there with family. you both meant a great deal to each other. sure, there were some wishful thoughts, but no, he couldn’t as much as he wanted it. you were just friends, nothing more, nothing less.

most of these days

i don't get too intimate

why would i let you in?

but i think again

everybody knows, but you two—i mean, it’s obvious. anyone with a pair of working eyes could see that you and ron shared an inseparable type of love, more than that of just friends. you did everything together and spent all your time together. you eat right beside him, your shoulders always touching for every meal, laughing and making jokes. be never fails to walk you to all your classes. you study together, do your homework together, ditch classes together, spend hogsmeade trips together—everything.

you and ron were also no strangers to physical affection; after all, it’s the reason you met.

third-year care for magical creatures class, the day the two of you met. you’d always been a little scared of the mythical creatures that inhabited the wizarding world; they were untelling and unpredictable.

“isn’t he beautiful?” hagrid bellowed as buckbeak strutted forward from behind him, making an animalistic shriek and catching the piece of meat hagrid threw at him into his mouth. everyone stepped back in fear to avoid being anywhere close to the creature; you were especially terrified.

the second buckbeak shrieked, you gripped the arm of the person next you, who just so happened to be ron, of whom had never had a woman touch him like this before, until now.

bloody hell, he thought to himself, his cheeks reddening and his breath faltering. for some reason, your touch felt good to him. in fact, he didn’t want you to let go until you did.

“oh my god! i’m so sorry, im such a chicken sometimes i really-" You’d blabbered, face reddening until he interrupted you.

“It’s okay, really. bloody thing gave me a bit of a fright too.” he said it with a slight chuckle at the end, which tugged the corners of your mouth into a grin. from then on, you became inseparable.

i don't even try

i don't have to think

with you, there's no pretending

it’s been two, almost three years now, and you know each other inside and out. you were now seated in your favorite spot which just so happened to be the couch in front of the fireplace in the gryffindor common room; you’d spend a lot of time there with him. talking, laughing, studying…holding hands, cuddling...his arm draped along your shoulder as he listened to you complain about your recent potions assignment. which you two considered casual, everybody else didn’t.

“he’s practically on top of her! pay up already!” fred exclaimed in a hushed whisper to george as they peaked from behind the staircase at the couple.

to which george rolled his eyes, “yeah, but they always do this; it’s really nothing new. you know that.” fred had an annoyed expression now plastered on his face, silence telling as he continued to watch the scene in front of him unfold.

you know me, you know me

and i just might know you too

come to me ready

you two knew people thought it was weird, but for you guys, it was just comfort. It was providing a sense of security; you were just showing your love for each other! what’s so wrong with that? 

you’d blabbered on about how you were so sick of snape and his big dumb stupid assignments that you couldn’t stand any longer. ron was listening, of course he was listening. he always listened to you, but today he was more focused on you than your ranting. he was focused on the way your lips moved while you spoke, the beauty marks that detailed your face so delicately, the slope of your nose, the way your thick eyelashes fanned across your eyelids, and the way your eyebrows creased in frustration as you read out snape's rubric for his newest assignment. 

“i mean, it’s ridiculous! look at this, ron. he wants—“ you started, but were cut off by ron’s own statement.

“you really are beautiful, you know.” he didn’t even register what he said until the words escaped his lips, but he wasn’t scared, nor was he shy around you. he knew you. he knew the time was right; this was the moment he had been subconsciously waiting for. 

a slight blush crept on your cheeks as you smiled, cupped his right cheek with your hand, and gave him a kiss on the other. “thanks ron. you don’t look too bad yourself, you know.”

he laughed and unwrapped his arm from around your shoulders to give you a slight push, knowing it would get you going. 

“oh, you’re in for it now.” you’d stated, bringing your legs up from the couch and kneeling on the cushions below you to shove him with both hands, using all your might to knock him over. 

he hardly moved; despite your efforts, he let out an “oh, am i?" and nothing more before wrapping his arms around your waist and roughly laying you out on the couch, as he brought his hands up to begin tickling your sides. 

“oh! really?” you gasped, "you think i don’t have siblings too? don’t make me start kicking weasley,” you’d stated in between breaths. 

he stopped at once, raising his arms up in a defeated manner, “okay. okay. you win.” 

“that’s what I thought.” you’d said catching your breath. you didn’t realize it, but in this moment, ron was sure of something he never thought he would be so sure of in his life. 

 

[ldysmfrst]

American Mate (11) - Just a Staff Member

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 11 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 11,999

Work count for Story: 81,331

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children, one of whom has special needs, and the other loves everyone. I started a Patreon, and I would be grateful if you donated to help me make ends meet while I am out of work.

Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! This chapter does have pack dynamics, comfort, Alpha/Luna vibes, possessiveness, and self-doubt.

BTS HYBRID ANIMAL TYPES: Seokjin - Roan Ferret, Yoongi - Black Jaguar, Hoseok - Marten, Namjoon - Alaskan Timber Wolf, Jimin - Red Panda, Taehyung - White Southwest African Tiger, Jungkook - Flemish Giant Rabbit

AMERICAN MATE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

Ring Ring Ring

Ring Ring Ring

Stirring from your sleep because of a phone ringing, you look around groggily. Momentarily forgetting where you are, you sit up quickly, and that is when you see—the dress and the night before come flooding back to you.

It starts with the letters and conversations, the outfit and pampering, and ends with his smiles and warmth. It was a date you will never forget. The only problem is… it wasn’t a date. Your heart wants to soar, but you must remind yourself it’s just a job.

Remembering that Jin had made it clear that it wasn’t something he would do for a fan. Even though he said you were special, you couldn’t believe it. Bangtan Pack would do this for any playmate, even if Seokjin thinks you are someone special.

Ring Ring Ring

Oh shit! That’s right, the phone. Scrambling over your pillow wall, you find your plugged-in phone and answer it.

“Hello, hello! Sorry, this is Y/n. Who is this?” you ask as you try to untangle yourself from your blanket fort. It isn’t easy with a broken hand.

“Hey Y/n, it’s Derek! Umm, did I wake you up?” he says brightly.

“Oh hey, ah yeah, and now I am wrapped in my blankets. I'm going to put you on speakerphone so I can untangle myself,” you growl in frustration, placing the phone near your head while you wrestle your way out.

“Did you just growl? You know what, never mind. You are gonna need to hurry,” Derek says with a hint of amusement.

“Yes, I did growl,” you say with a huff. “These damn blankets. Wait… Why?” you ask after finally freeing one leg. “I don’t have any plans for today.”

“Well, now you do,” he says in a sing-song-like voice. “You have about two hours to be at PMS to review the final contract.”

“No way… what? Two hours! But I thought we were going to sign it tomorrow or Monday. Why now? Did they get everything back in time?” I say, pushing the blankets down my leg and wiggling backward.

Thud.

Groan

“Y/n! What was that?”  calls Derek, who hears you fall while on speakerphone because of his fox hybrid hearing.

“Ah… I slid off the bed,” I said with a slight giggle. Standing up, I lean over my phone. “The duvet is made of satin, so it's slippery, and I got a little bit too close to the edge.”

A rapid knock on your door startles you as you hear your name called from the other side: “Y/n, are you okay? What happened? Princess? Princess!”

Quickly making my way to the door with the phone in hand, you open it to be engulfed by a warm body, then pushed away with Yoongi’s eyes, scanning your form to ensure nothing is wrong. His eyes flashed between their usual deep brown and his Alpha’s golden yellow.

“I am fine, Kisa,” you say with a smile and a giggle as you spin around to show him that you are, indeed, intact and not bleeding.

“Kisa, who is there with you, one of their staff?” Derek, who is still on speakerphone, asks.

“Oh no, it’s Yoongi. Sorry, in my head, I have been calling him ‘my Kisa’ for a bit now. Guess I have never said it out loud,” you say, moving back into your room to sit on your bed with the jaguar in tow.

“Why are you calling me a Japanese woman’s name, Princess?” the jaguar asks. Inside, he jumps for joy because you not only gave him a nickname but also said—My.

You are starting to claim him, and he is over the moon.

“It’s a Japanese woman’s name? Shit, I will stop. I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” you say with wide eyes while waiting for an adverse reaction from the very non-girly, totally male predator hybrid.

Yoongi shakes his head, his face holding curiosity rather than disgust. “If you didn’t know, then why were you calling me that?”

“For me, it's an acronym: K—Knight, I—In, S—Shining, A—Armour, Kisa,” you say this with a slight blush tinting your cheeks, which is mirrored by the hybrid.

“Oh, you have pet names now? For all of them? First, is Thumper, and now Kisa? Who else have you claimed with a famous Y/n’s pet name?” Derek teasingly inquires.

“Ah, Derek, why are you on the phone with me now? Something about two hours?” you say, trying to redirect the conversation away from the new nickname and avoid Yoongi’s gaze.

“Yes, you now have an hour and forty-five to get to PMS. The Pack Alpha is being notified as well. Please be aware that you, your Kisa,” Derek says with a teasing hilt. “The Prime Alpha and anyone who wants to come must be here by then.”

Glancing at Yoongi, he still has dusted cheeks but a silly smile. “Okay. One, you can’t use that name, and two, we will be there. See you soon, yeah?”

“Yep, see you soon, Y/n, Mr. Min!” Derek calls before promptly hanging up.

You hear a deep but soft chuckle beside you, “So I’m your knight in shining armor?”

Hiding your face in your hands, you nod, “Well, think about it. You saved me from hurting myself worse than a banged-up wrist the first day you met me, you saved me from panicking with the offer from Namjoon, and you sounded like you were ready to break down the door because I fell off the bed.”

You feel fur wrapping around your wrists, pulling down softly, effectively removing you from your hiding place. You keep your eyes on your hands and watch the black fur tail wiggle around your wrists.

Once Yoongi realizes you are avoiding his gaze, he grasps your chin and turns to face him. Your eyes automatically lock.

“I will always come to rescue you. I am honored to be your Kisa for as long as you have me, Princess,” Yoongi tells you.

His emotions are so thick with happiness that you find him as your safe place. His Alpha was filled with pride, and his scent was like waves of fresh spring rain.

Your face lights up with a kind smile, and your vanilla mate scent grows more potent. It mixes beautifully with your sweet pea, becoming one of Yoongi’s favorite scents.

The vanilla strengthening could only mean you are falling into the mate bond more with him. He is so happy that it is building naturally with you, even if your meeting wasn’t a pleasant experience.

He can see the nervousness, the longing, and something else in your eyes, which gives him hope that the changes in your scent aren’t just happening subconsciously. A gummy smile grows on his face as he observes you with almost heart eyes.

Pulling away from his hand and tail, you walk toward the door. With a controlled smile, you say, “We should start getting ready for the meeting. Can you please make sure the rest of your pack knows? Please.”

When you turn around, Yoongi can see your eyes look more distant, your posture is no longer relaxed, and your scent is slightly perfumed. Keeping his face neutral (ish), he walks up to you, taking note that you seem to be struggling with something but clearly don’t want to discuss it.  Yoongi walks up to you, stopping to give you a second to say something else but when you don’t, he agrees, saying, “Sure thing, Princess. I will let them know.”

You close the door behind you and huff. You must find a way to stop doing this. You can’t feel like you are anything more than a playmate or an employee to them, even though they make it so hard.

First, their declarations before you agreed to be their playmate. Then Jin asked you to give them all a chance. Now, Yoongi is pledging fealty to you like it’s going to last a lifetime.

Shaking your head, you glance at the clock. Whelp, time sure does fly when you contemplate professionalism struggles, attempting to hide mental instabilities and licentious thoughts of bonded mates.

Climbing the stairs, Yoongi finds one of the two, “Namjoon-ah, we need to talk. Where is Jin-hyung?”

“Oh, ah, Jin left about five minutes ago. I was just coming to find you and Y/n. Is everything okay?” he asks with concern.

“Yes and no,” he says, continuing up the stairs, “If you were going to tell Princess about the meeting being moved, Derek beat you to it. She knows and wants me to make sure my pack knows.”

It doesn’t get past the Prime Alpha at the emphasis in Yoongi’s words, even if he looks like nothing is amiss.

“Oh, that is nice of Derek. Then again, she is his Luna, so that only makes sense. So, what is wrong?” Namjoon asks again, following Yoongi into his den.

Yoongi rummaged through his drawers, looking for something presentable to wear to the meeting, instinctually wanting to continue making a good impression with your Beta.

“Y/n. The mate scent is getting stronger. I think,” Yoongi says, still looking for anything to wear.

“Isn’t that a good thing, hyung?” Namjoon questions as he sits on the edge of Yoongi’s bed, watching the jaguar scampering around.

“Well, it would be if not, but a few moments later, her scent turned into that fake flower perfume scent she gets when she is worried about something, and it caused our mate scent to almost disappear,” grumbled Yoongi.

“What were you two doing?” Namjoon asks as he tries to determine what caused the shift.

“Well, I think I may have reacted too much to the “pet” name, as her Beta called it, that she gave me. Ah, I found it!” Yoongi exclaims as he pulls out one of his few button-up shirts in a cream color to go with dark sandy-colored pants and brown loafers.

“Pet name?” questions Namjoon.

“Yeah, she accidentally called me her Kisa while speaking with the Beta. It stands for a knight in shining armor because I keep saving her from getting hurt or unpleasant situations,” he says, changing out of his sleepwear and getting dressed for the meeting.

“Kisa?” giggles Taehyung from the doorway. “Oh my, how appropriate for you. Bet she doesn’t even realize it. I don’t think you do either.”

Both Alphas in the room look at the newcomer, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s Japanese and typically used for females, but it originated in Old Greek as an endearing term,” says Taehyung as he saunters into the room. With his voice dropping into his deeper register, he says, “It means kitty.”

Yoongi is coughing as he chokes on the air and turns bright red with embarrassment. His ears twitched every which way but what, and his tail almost wagged like a dog.

“It looks like your Princess fell onto one of your kinks,” says Namjoon with a smirk.

“Hush you, both of you.  Am I the only one here who is worried about the meeting we must prepare for?” Yoongi challenges while pulling Namjoon up to push him out the door while he deals with embarrassment.

“Nope, I am dressed and ready,” Namjoon says, smirkingly, pointing out that he is in a suit.

“I was the one who requested the meeting. I have been on the phone since early morning trying to get things to move along faster,” the Prime Alpha proudly states.

“Possessive much, Hyung?” Tae teases the pack leader. “I thought that was my job.”

Namjoon may be the Prime Alpha of the Bangtan Pack, but Taehyung is known for being the possessive one. The whole world knew how possessive Taehyung was, especially with his only younger mate.

“Hey! I can be possessive of my mates, even if she is unaware of being one,” complained the wolf hybrid.

“Jin-hyung came home last night, and we had a good conversation about their date. I just knew I wanted to settle this now. I don’t want her going anywhere,” justifies Namjoon.

“Oh yeah, the date went well, I take it?” asks Yoongi as he finishes getting ready in the bathroom.

“Yes, very much so, but he wouldn’t tell me much. He said he didn’t want to spoil anything for me when we finally go on our date… if she even agrees,” Namjoon says as his scent gets duller.

“Are you worried that Y/n will reject you?” Taehyung asks as he hugs the older Alpha around the waist. Namjoon nods his head.

“I don’t see Y/n doing that. She may end up acting a bit more professionally with you, but that's when you have to use those dimples to your advantage.” says the younger one while poking those same dimples.

“Returning to the current issue, we must talk to Jin-hyung about the mate scent. See if he got any hints of changes. Maybe try to find out why she is so nervous about things. I guess your meeting with her family pack will be good,” says Yoongi on his way out of the bathroom, ready to go.

“Looking good there, kitty,” Taehyung teases.

“Ah, no. Don’t you start that now, Taehyung-ah, please. We have a meeting to go to. Are you coming with?” Yoongi asks, trying to avoid blushing further.

“Yeah, Jimin and Jungkook are coming, too. Hobi-hyung and Jin-hyung couldn’t come because of some vlog and video-clip requirements that Bang PD came up with since we left two weeks early.”

“I think they are doing it close to the Playmate Services office. They both want to try to make it before the meeting starts. It would be nice to show support and acceptance as a mate-bonded pack,” laments Namjoon.

“HYUNGS LET’S GO!” Jungkook yells from downstairs.

“Guess that means everyone else is ready,” snickers Taehyung.

Yoongi is wearing a light tan look, which is different from what you would ever think he would wear—the duality of a man.

Jungkook and Taehyung are in their typical but stylish black-on-black with– that's right, black.

Namjoon looks like a lawyer in a three-piece suit of dark blue with light blue pinstripes.

Then there is Jimin in classy-looking beachwear. With this look, he could attend a meeting, a dance class, or a day in Malibu.

You, however, are in something very professional. A dark blue pantsuit with a light blue blouse goes well with the pedicure and manicure you got from Mare Salon. Every time you look at the nail polish, a smile blooms as you remember how perfect last night was.

The boys had all expressed how beautiful you looked. Taehyung let out a low growl as his eyes roamed over your features. Yoongi mentioned how you would be the most attractive person in the room, leading you to blush.

It took every ounce of willpower for the Prime Alpha to drag you next to him because the two of you matched. The two of you looked like you could be the power couple of Bangtan, especially since you dressed without trying to match.

As you exit the packhouse, everyone is having small conversations, like Jungkook worrying about being late when, in reality, you will still be early to the meeting. Then there is Yoongi, who wants to know what to do after the contract signing or if we could just come back.

You smile and listen to their various conversations while still caught up in the conversation with Jimin about where you got your suit. You weren’t surprised that he didn’t know what a Torrid and a Ross were. While you tried to find a way to explain it without sounding like a cheapskate, you missed the lowered volumes around you.

Taehyung had stopped talking with Yoongi and Namjoon to glare off into the distance.

“What is it, Tae Tae?” asks Namjoon, but before he can answer, the smell of male arousal gets stronger the closer they get to the vans.

Glancing at each other, Jimin over his shoulder briefly with a slight twitch of his brow, they all conclude… They are not the only ones enjoying how well your suit fits your figure, but the question is which of the two drivers was attracted to their mate.

When the group gets closer to the cars, the boys huddle together like last time. You start to think this must be a regular thing since Bangtan is a large, bonded pack. You understand that the six of you will have to split up since there are too many of you to fit in the luxury 5-passenger vans.

Looking back at the black, highly tinted vans, you wonder who will go with whom. Seeing that you are not needed in or understanding whatever they are discussing in rapid-fire Korean, you head to the van with the driver you have seen before and greet him.

Watching your step because, for some reason, you had decided to wear heeled pumps, you miss the driver’s eyes as they roam over your figure.

You double-check to see if the boys have moved, but note that they are still huddled. Taehyung and Yoongi are facing your way and looking between the two vans. Neither one of them seems happy at the moment, but you keep to yourself and keep heading the rest of the way.

“Hello, James. It is nice to see you again. Am I going in your van today?” You smile as you approach the driver you met on the faithful day this all started. In doing so, you ended up drawing the attention of the pack.

“Y/n, having you in my van would be a pleasure,” says the driver, his eyes, again, roaming your figure while stepping forward with his hand out to help you down the last step.

You go to take his hand, a smile growing at his kind words and gentlemanly qualities, but a deep growl sounds behind you.  The sound induces a fear that can only come from a predatory animal. Logically, you know it must be one of the Alphas behind you, but your heart and instincts are causing you to freeze.

The driver, James, is having a similar reaction, with wide eyes looking behind you as someone approaches.

“Mr. Green,” says Taehyung, placing an arm around your waist. “You will show her respect by calling her Miss Y/l/n when she speaks to you.”

“Yes, Sir. My apologies, Mr. Kim. I mean you and Miss Y/l/n, no disrespect,” James says as he bows in respect for offending the tiger hybrid.

While Taehyung’s touch brings you out of your unwarranted fear, you roll your eyes at his notion that James was being rude. It isn’t that big of a deal, and you go to explain why James was so bold as to use your first name, but Taehyung continues.

“You also will never have the pleasure of doing anything with her if you wish to keep your job. Keep your eyes off her,” growls the Alpha while still holding you, his grip tightening on your hip.

“Taehyung! What are you doing?” you said, stepping out of his hold and facing him.

Blocking the view of the now trembling man behind you, you add, “You cannot just growl at someone like that. It’s rude, for one. Besides, I asked James to call me by my first name. He was kind to me the day I got injured.”

Taehyung looks at you with a gaping mouth, his scent burning at feeling your reprimand. “I was… he was ogling and flirting with you. He isn’t supposed to call you by your first name. He has to remember his place. He is just a staff member.”

By this point, the other Alphas are focused on this little interaction and look at the group of you with anger, confusion, and other emotions you can’t identify right now as your scent clashes with Taehyung’s. His burning wood does not mix well with your soured lemon, putting everyone on edge.

“Staff,” you say as you look past Taehyung at the rest of the pack that has gathered along his side.

Jungkook’s eyes are round with worry, and he is nibbling on his lower lip and holding onto Jimin, who has the decency of looking somewhat ashamed of what has happened.

Yoongi and Namjoon are the calmest looking of the bunch as they take everything in. Neither one of them knows what to do. They understand Taehyung’s reaction, especially with you being a new mate that hasn’t been marked.

Clicking your tongue, you focus back on the tiger hybrid. “Alpha Kim Taehyung-ssi, I will also be on your pack’s payroll, which makes me– just a staff member,” you say.

Yoongi and Jungkook move to take a step forward but stop when you level them with a glare. Shaking your head, you walk backward to stand next to the driver.

Then, as you bow to a full 90 degrees, you continue, “My apologies, Alpha Kim Taehyung-ssi, for overstepping my position. It won’t happen again.”

A chorus of voiced concerns comes from all the Alphas except Taehyung, who is shocked by your reaction. You take a beat before you stand as tall as you can, your face straight and unyielding, and your scent losing any hint of sweet pea and morphing to lemon with a hint of mold.

Only three of them understand that you have gone into your Luna mode. Yoongi places a hand on the offending Alpha to signal him to keep his mouth shut. At the same time, a soft but unmistakable growl from the Prime Alpha is loud enough to be heard within the Alpha group.

“Since I am not a member of your staff currently, which grants me no regulations or benefits… I will find a way to get to the Playmate Services office on my own. Prime Alpha, Alphas,” you curtly say with a nod.

Spinning around, you give James a sympathetic smile and walk away. Pulling out your phone, you request an Uber.  You can hear scuffling, growling, and loud whispers.

It’s not loud enough for your human ears to hear what is being said. At this point, you do not care (you do, but you don’t), and it slowly fades away as you reach the main gate.

Approaching the gate, you nod to the guard, asking to be let out the side door, when you notice he stops and looks behind you.

Great, someone followed you.

You are 100% sure it’s someone coming to force you into the van with them or apologize to Taehyung. Maybe even worse, someone is here to have you get into the van with Taehyung, so you must be near him and apologize.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Reading yourself for whatever you need to do to hold your position and remain as far as possible from Mr. High-and-Mighty-I-am-an-Alpha-Tiger Kim Taehyung.

“Prin… Y/n… Miss Y/n,” says Yoongi with insecurity bleeding into his words.

You turn around and glare at him, waiting for him to tell you what he wants or what the pack's demands are. Hands on your hips, tapping your foot with a look of sternness but a hint of frustration, “What?”

“I understand you are upset at Taehyung-ah.” Your face glowers at the mention of the Alpha, but he continues, “Would you be okay if I went with you to the office?”

You continue to stand there and stare at him. You want time alone, to be away from them all, because it has been a lot. Even with how amazing it was last night with Seokjin and the compliments from this morning, Taehyung’s actions knocked you off the cloud you were sitting on and back into reality.

“You… I want…My Alpha is screaming in my head that you are hurt and need to be with one of us,” Yoongi says firmly, but his eyes show he is actually concerned.

You shift your weight to tell him to leave you alone. While you understand that his Alpha has instinctual needs, you are a big girl and can handle yourself.

Before you can say anything, he adds, “More so, I would like to be by your side right now. Princess, I know you are mad at him, and not only do I understand, but so does the pack. Trust me, he is getting his own punishment from the pack right now.”

He takes a step forward. His tail is low, his hands grip the bottom of his shirt, and his ears are flat. “Please, Y/n-ah. My princess, allow me to come with you. I won’t say anything the whole way there.”

Hearing a car pull up near the gate, your phone dings at the arrival of your Uber. You turn around and step toward the gate; speaking over your shoulder, you say, “Not a word. Let’s go.”

After not seeing Yoongi on the side of the road as they left, Namjoon settled into his seat. His eyes return to the younger Alpha and appraise the hunch of his back, downcast eyes, flat ears, and tail wrapped around his waist in a self-soothing manner.

Good. He knows he messed up.

“What are you going to do?” Namjoon asks, his voice firm in his Prime Alpha role.

“Joon,” he starts but is cut off with a growl.

“Right now, I am not your Joonie-hyung. I am your Prime Alpha, leader of the Bangtan Pack, and you just…” Namjoon sighs, his eyes looking around, trying to figure out how to say everything without creating a more significant problem.

“Prime Alpha Kim, I know. I messed up. I shouldn’t have growled at the driver rudely,” admits Taehyung.

“And??” hints Namjoon that the younger mate shouldn’t be finished.

“And I should not have been so possessive of our new mate, especially since she doesn’t know yet,” says Taehyung with a growl. “It’s just so hard. He was practically drooling over her like a piece of meat or candy.”

“That may be the case, but Y/n either didn’t notice or didn’t care. So, correcting him with her presence and in that manner was not okay. Taehyung-ah, do you realize how much you may have set us back with her because of this?” chides Namjoon.

“She wasn’t that upset, Prime Alpha. She is a woman. She’ll get over it. Besides, she has to forgive because of the mate bond. We just need to give her time, flowers, or gifts and what-not,” says the younger Alpha.

“The mate bond doesn’t work like that. She can reject you and, in turn, reject us. We don’t know how much a human can feel the bond because it is so rare.” Namjoon sighs, “You know apologizing to a mate isn’t the same as to a friend. Flowers or gifts… really? Is that how you apologize to our mates?”

“Well, no, not really,” mumbles Taehyung with a shrug.

“Y/n already has obstacles that we have to help her overcome. Obstacles that we must conquer to prove to her that we are different from anyone she has been with and not just because we are hybrids,” Namjoon declares.  “We have to show her how genuine we are. She deserves, and the rest of our pack will demand that she be shown the same love, devotion, and care we already show each other. She may need more reassurance than the others because of her past.”

Leaning forward, Namjoon reaches out a hand to grasp Taehyung’s chin, forcing him to make eye contact, “Today, you will stay in the van away from Y/n for the meeting. After this, you will be at her beck and call like the staff you have not shown respect for, and it will be up to Y/n when you are forgiven. Understood?”

“Yes, Prime Alpha. I will seek forgiveness and serve her until she forgives me, even though it will not be easy for my Alpha or me,” gripes Taehyung half-heartedly. He knows that he went about today the wrong way, but he still doesn’t feel what he did was done with the wrong intent.

“Good. Pray that she is as forgiving with you as she was for Yoongi-hung. If she doesn’t… I don’t know. I just don’t know,” sighs Namjoon.

After inquiring where Derek is, they are directed into the conference room. He is busy setting up the meeting and laying out copies of the updated contract inside the room.

At the pack's entrance, he greets them, “Oh, Mr. Kim, Mr. Park, and Mr. Jeon, Hello!”

Looking behind the three Alphas, Derek expects to see Y/n, but no one else enters. With a confused look, he asks, “Where is Y/n-ah? Is she coming with another packmate?”

“She is coming with Yoongi-hyung, and Manager Sejin is also coming in a moment. We came a bit early because we wanted to ask you a question,” Namjoon asks as he steps forward.

“Beta Derek, temporary Alpha of the Y/l/n Pack, I, Prime Alpha Namjoon of the Bangtan Pack, would like to request an audience with you and your pack Omega,” requests the Prime Alpha with a bowed head, mirrored by the other Alphas present. The formality shown honors this as a traditional request, and Derek gapes like a fish out of water.

“You are requesting… Why not ask my Luna?” Asks the weary Beta, his scent hinting at worry and his body language on edge.

Lowering his head even further, Namjoon responds, “We wish to discuss your Luna and our future with her. I would rather not say something here because it would not be the right place. Please, will you meet with select members of the Bangtan Pack?”

“Very well. As temporary Alpha of the Y/l/n Pack, I accept your request. As the receiving pack, I will offer to meet at the Y/l/n Packhouse tomorrow at 11 a.m. I think the utilities are still one until Monday. Most likely, because none of us are actual Alphas, and our Luna will not be present, our Omega’s mate may join us. Are the terms acceptable?” says Derek without wavering and holding himself high.

“They are. Thank you for accepting our request. Myself, Seokjin-hyung, Hoseok-hyung, and Taehyung-ah will be present from Bangtan Pack,” responds Namjoon, standing up.

“Oh, that is a lot,” comments Derek, as the packhouse is not very big and has no couch. The fox hybrid scent shows his stress at figuring out seating arrangements.

“Derek-ssi? As the visiting pack, they will be fine with sitting on the floor of your packhouse. Respectfully and traditionally, you and your pack representatives should take any other proper seating,” Jungkook says, his big bunny smile on display.

At the other Alphas' nodding, Derek visibly relaxes and smiles back, “I will make sure you are comfortable, Alphas; don’t worry. For today, please sit on the table's far side where your nameplate is, and we will start when everyone is here.”

You are upset. You were thrown for a loop. You lost some of the footing that you thought was solid. You wanted to be left alone.

Technically, this is what you are getting, but now that you are here, it’s not what you want.

Your fur leash is missing, and the soft stroking of Yoongi’s tail on your leg to calm and reassure you is absent.  You miss the subtle touches you have gotten from the jaguar in the past few days. That is when you realize that it is not the action itself but who it was that was doing that made it mean so much more. You are growing attached and don’t know how to stop it.

You start thinking it would be good to express your concerns to Prime Alpha Namjoon and find another solution before signing the contract. Your mind continues to be riddled with thoughts of how caring Yoongi and Jungkook have been, how Jimin opened up, and your beautiful time with Seokjin. You feel a connection with these four. Well, maybe not so much Jimin, but at least he has started making progress toward not being a stranger to you.

Hoseok, on the other hand, started flirty but, so far, hasn’t looked to spend more time with you even when the pack was all there. Then again, his schedule has been the fullest out of everyone.

You were primarily worried about Namjoon. Without him tolerating you being involved with his pack, you can bet all the money in your account that this contract would never happen no matter who else wanted you around, especially after the last Playmate.

Taehyung.

Until this morning, Taehyung was someone you thought you had found a connection with. You met his Alpha briefly in the breakroom, and he seemed so caring even with the slight distance. He was one of the pillars you planned to build over the next several weeks.

What if you now screwed up everything?

You had just scolded your Omega about how reactions can ruin everything, and then you turned around and did the same thing. Glancing at Yoongi, you wonder if you ruined everything with him by speaking out against his mate. However, you are not willing to compromise your ethics and morals—period.

“Princess?” he calls, attempting to get your attention while in the elevator.

At the sound of Yoongi’s voice and the use of his nickname for you, your shoulders relax just a tad. You hadn’t realized how much his silence and distance were affecting you.

Looking at him standing next to you, you are met with hard-set eyes and a tall, dominating posture. He says, “Taehyung has a good reason for what he did, but he was not entirely correct in his actions. Our Prime Alpha will correct that with him, so you don’t have to worry.”

Turning to face him, you open your mouth to respond, only to have Yoongi quickly take your hand and continue, “Please don’t cancel the contract.”

It isn’t a demand. You take in his words, posture, and scent of strong vanilla and ocean. He is shaken and worried, which shocks you because you figured he would side with his younger mate.

“Let us prove to you that we mean everything we have told you. Look at Seokjin, Jungkook, and me for examples of how things will be in the future.” His eyes tell you he is being honest. They are hard-set, but at the same time, they are glossing over with unshed tears.

“Yoongi, my Kisa, I won’t cancel the contract, nor will I force anyone to partake in it,” you reassure him. Your words act like a breath of fresh air for the Alpha. “What happened today is just one in the pack of seven. What he did is not a reflection of all of you.”

Pulling you in for a hug that startles you at first, Yoongi kisses your temple, mumbling against your skin, “Thank you, Princess.”

When the elevator doors open, you pull out of his hold and take his hand. You weren’t sure how you would feel around Taehyung, but you didn’t want anyone else to be uncomfortable.

“Yoongi, what do you mean I don’t have to worry about Taehyung?” you ask.

“Namjoon-ah will take care of it and let you know what was done,” he answers. “That’s how Bangtan works. When there is a disagreement or incident like the one this morning, it gets deferred to Prime Alpha.”

“Oh, I wonder what my punishment will be,” you muse.

Pulling you to a stop, Yoongi asks, “Why would you get punished?”

“I spoke out against an Alpha. An Alpha that is a bonded mate to all of you. Then left without being granted permission to leave by the Prime Alpha,” you say, looking at the office doors.

“Princess,” Yoongi says as he lifts a finger to your chin, directing you to look at him again, “You stood up for someone, stood your ground against a pack member, and demanded space. Nothing you did was wrong. I mean, sure, it would have been better to talk it out, but you aren’t used to us yet.”

Leaning up, Yoongi kisses you on the forehead, “No one is going to punish you. In fact, I see some groveling happening really soon.”

“Will that happen before or after the Prime Alpha?” You feel a blush crawling up your face, attempting to lighten the mood.

Yoongi knows you are avoiding the situation in your own unique way. He chuckles at your joke but is still worried because your sweet pea hasn't returned yet, and only the lemon and vanilla scent is present.

Any other nearby hybrids will notice your scent and likely think something is wrong. To them, this could mean either that the hybrid with you is unsolicited or that you are being forced into something. Neither one of these options is good for either of you.

He opens the office door, his tail curling around your waist, and you head in. He hopes you will naturally fall into petting his tail or your scent will change before gaining unwanted attention.

The temporary front desk assistant greets you and directs the two of you to the correct office. Yoongi opens the conference door to reveal Namjoon, Jimin, Jungkook, and Derek sitting around the conference room.

While the Alphas stand at your arrival, Derek jumps up and tilts his head in submission, pulling a shocked “oh” from you. As you walk closer to your family pack member, he drops to a knee and whimpers slightly.

“Derek? What’s wrong?” you ask, looking to the room full of Alphas for help. Each of them seems also to be avoiding your gaze.

“Luna, what has caused you to be so upset?” asks Derek, his eyes still cast down and his neck bared to you.

“Did you say something?” You question the Bangtan pack members who were present before you arrived.

“No, Luna Y/n, we have said nothing, but your scent says plenty. Yoongi-hyung, did you not comfort her and explain?” questions Namjoon.

“I explained...” Yoongi starts, but you cut him off.

“He did, Prime Alpha. I didn’t understand how affected I was… am. He needs to do nothing more. He did as you requested,” you clarify. “I will see to my pack.”

Focusing back on your Beta, you lean down and scent him lightly with your wrist to show that you are not upset with him. “Beta, I am not upset at you. There was a… misunderstanding this morning. I am sorry if my scent is still soured.”

Finally, Derek looks at you, his gaze flitting over all of you to make sure you are not physically hurt. You smile at him and hold your hand, helping him stand.

“Luna, are you sure you are okay? What happened?” asks Derek.

“Don’t worry about it,” you glance around. “It is something that must be dealt with between the parties involved. You know how I do not like bringing in more people than required.”

“Luna Y/n, Taehyung-ah will not be present for the meeting if you wish. He is waiting down in the van.  He will remain distant from you until you are willing to have him in your presence, and then he will work for your forgiveness,” says Namjoon with an air of authority.

“Oh. I see.” You then blatantly say to Namjoon while you pick at invisible lint on your pants and sleeve, “Strange that Young Mr. Kim has been made to keep distance when others who are also looking for forgiveness are not, Prime Alpha.”

Looking at your Beta, you ask, “Am I correct in saying that if he wishes to receive services, he must be present at PMS to sign the contract?”

“He does, Luna, but we can have him come do it later. Just like Mr. Jung and the eldest, Mr. Kim,” answers Derek as he moves to his seat again.

“I see.”  You move to the seat with your name on it and notice that Yoongi is slated to sit next to you, with the Director on your other side.

“He is welcome to be present for the meeting. It does affect him and his bonded mates. I will not stand in his way, Prime Alpha,” you state with the clarity of a Luna, leaving no room for discussion.

“It is still his decision to join this contract of his own free will and no one else’s. Or am I mistaken, Prime Alpha?” you say as your Luna side continues showing her strength.

“You are correct. I will go get him then, Luna Y/n,” Namjoon says, making his way to the door as you and the rest take your respectable seats.

“Director Johnson, it is good to see you again. I hope this hasn’t caused you too much trouble,” you say as he sits beside you.

“Oh no, it has been interesting but nothing troubling,” the director says with a professional smile. “How are you handling all of this? It must not be easy since you have no Playmate training.”

As the director speaks, you feel Yoongi’s tail slowly wrap around you again, as if he is trying not to make it noticeable. Remembering someone mentioned that the Bangtan pack does not have a good relationship with the director, you maintain a smile in hopes that no other issues will come up.

“Not to worry. As you know, I have a family pack with Derek as my Beta. So, I am not completely unaware of pack dynamics, and I have read more than my fair share of contracts and witnessed playmate interactions in the past,” you try to sound sure of yourself.

Before he could respond, the door to the conference room opened again. Namjoon and Taehyung enter, with Namjoon taking his place back on the other side of the table. You pay no mind to what Taehyung is doing to the best of your ability, still being upset.

“Just as in any honest pack, there will be differences of opinions, challenges to positions, and discussions to occur. This will happen as we get to know… each… ooothherr.” Your words stop as you see the odd look on Derek’s face as he pointedly looks at you, then behind you and back several times.

You also note that Yoongi has stiffened, the three other Alphas in your eye line are looking behind you, and the director has also turned to look. Following their lead, you turn in your seat to find Taehyung standing behind you against the wall, looking directly at you, “May I help you, Mr. Kim?”

“Y/n,” starts the young Alpha before several growls cut him off.

“She is Luna Y/n right now, Taehyung-ah. You will take note of her scent and address her as such,” Namjoon says.

“Yes, Prime Alpha,” he answers without his eyes drifting from you and taking a deeper breath. “Luna Y/n, I would like to apologize for my actions this morning. You are your own person. It was wrong of me to assume that you were being mistreated and disrespected by Mr. Green.”

Your eyes widen at his words. Glancing at the director, you notice he frowns deeply at hearing that something has already happened. You can also see that Derek has a look of irritation. However, your attention is pulled back to Taehyung as he kneels on the floor, causing you to stand immediately. You are shocked to have an Alpha do that, but you hear someone clearing your throat before you can process anything.

“Luna Y/n, from this moment until you have forgiven him, Taehyung will be your personal attendant. It is an older tradition but one that Bangtan Pack has utilized for a long time,” informs the Prime Alpha.

“Luna Y/n,” Yoongi gathers your attention. “Remember what I said in the elevator? This is it. Don’t think that because you are new to the pack or where your position is within the pack means that you have to forgive him right away. I think Hobi had him in service for almost a month.”

“27 days. I was in service to him for 27 days, and I will serve you, Luna Y/n, for as long as you see fit,” Taehyung informs you as he sits on the floor behind your chair.

“But why are you on the floor?” you ask, his eyes widening momentarily as he looks to his packmates for help.

“Luna,” calls Derek, “If they are following the traditional Acts of Forgiveness, then the one looking for forgiveness must serve the one who can grant that forgiveness at all times. They must never be found higher than or in front of the grantor. Plus, they must be in close proximity unless the grantor orders otherwise.”

“But he is taller than me! How is that gonna work? He can’t sit on the floor. What will Army think if they get wind of this?” You, not so gracefully, plop back into your seat, “I’m a dead man.”

“Luna Y/n, while I will not go against the traditions of the Acts while within the presence of our Bangtan pack, if it makes you more comfortable, might I suggest something?” Taehyung offers, seemingly unaffected while sitting on the floor like it’s normal.

Glancing at Yoongi for guidance, as you have never dealt with any of these Acts before, much less heard of them before today, he subtly nods his head once. Clearly, this is not something that is not out of sorts for the Bangtan Pack. With that knowledge, you look back at Taehyung and wave your hand for him to continue.

“Why don’t I always walk behind you and sit on a designated side when someone outside the pack can see us? I don’t care about what Army thinks. I care about what you think,” offers the tiger hybrid, still sitting on the floor.

“You don’t… Mr. Kim, you must think of Army. They are the key to your success. I am, by far, not someone to risk a scandal over,” you huff out. Another sharp spike in your lemon-ed scent supports the determination of your words.

“Now, your ideas will work. You still cannot sit on the floor, though. That is not right. You are not a slave. What about using a pillow?” you ask, looking between Namjoon and Derek.

But it's again, Taehyung answers, “If you order for me to use a pillow, I will be grateful for your kindness.”

One thing you loved picking up from Evie’s family when you were young was the ability to identify scents. Scents became your comfort afterward.  Right now, you need that support.

Taking a deep breath, the scent of your Beta with the present members of Bangtan that have found a place in your heart, you say, “Fine. I will follow the Acts of Forgiveness. You can walk behind me, sit to my left in public, and use a pillow when sitting on the floor. Is that agreeable, Mr. Kim?”

Yoongi gives a pleased rumble beside you, and Taehyung nods, “As you wish, Luna.”

You had thought that Taehyung would have taken a seat with the pack or somewhere to your left after agreeing, but he refused because the Director was sitting there. He also refused a pillow “because he caused enough of a delay.”

Deciding that this was a battle you had no desire to pursue because you doubted you would win, you let it slide. You also make a mental note to place an over-stuffed or large pillow in each room you might end up with him in to ensure he is comfortable.

At the same time, you still feel awkward about the Acts of Forgiveness and debate forgiving him when you leave the office. However, your thoughts get pulled to the paperwork in front of you as the meeting officially starts.

Halfway through the contract reading, Seokjin and Hoseok arrive. Both take note of Taehyung sitting on the floor and your still acidic, lemony scent but say nothing. Only a smirk on Hoseok’s face gives you a clue that he at least understands what is going on.

“Jin! Hoseok! You both made it,” you smile, standing up and hugging the eldest Alpha.

“Hello, my dear. Of course, we made it. This is an important meeting,” Seokjin says while he returns your hug.

“I made sure that my dance practice ended on time. My instructor kept trying to make me take breaks, but I wasn’t having it. They understood once I explained it,” says Hoseok as he ruffles your hair on his way to his seat.

“Thank you for joining us. Please take a seat. We are about halfway through. Do you want a moment to catch up?” asks Director Johnson.

At the sound of his voice, Seokjin stiffens, and his face drops. “No, Director. Our Prime Alpha takes care of the pack, including Miss Y/n, as a proper leader should, and neither of us has any reason to question him.”

“Jin,” you whisper harshly, “Be nice. Please, he is still my boss.”

Looking down at you, Seokjin takes a moment to admire you. His Alpha wants to argue that Bangtan has a claim on you that ‘your boss’ will never have.

“I am sorry, my dear.” Seokjin glances at the director, “Thank you for your offer, but we can continue from wherever you are.”

As the eldest Alpha sits next to Namjoon, the meeting moves forward. The preliminary one you agreed to back at their packhouse seemed the same as the contract in front of you once you passed the results from Dr. Blackwell and Ryan’s report.

That is until you get to the last few clauses:

·        The Bangtan Pack will not seek additional Playmates for companion or partner contracts as Y/n is the sole Playmate of the Bangtan Pack. ·        There will be no sexual or intimate contact outside of the contracted individuals. ·        Y/n will have the option to be integrated into the Bangtan Pack by agreement of all members, at which time the Playmate Partner Contract will be null and void.

“Okay, wait. Why does this last clause even need to be included? What do you mean by ‘no sexual or intimate contact’... What does that mean to Alpha hybrids?” you ask as you read and re-read the last clause.

“Integrated? Why is there an option to be integrated into your pack, Prime Alpha?” you ask with your eyes wide.

You look at Namjoon, waiting for his explanation. When he doesn’t answer immediately, you look to Derek, “You wrote the contract. What does this mean? Are you kicking me out of our family pack at the end of this? Are you ashamed of me?”

“What?!? No, Luna, that isn’t happening. That will NEVER happen. Family packs are for life. These were added per last night's eldest Mr. Kim’s email request,” Derek quickly responded, looking to Seokjin to explain.

“Luna Y/n, I want to be very clear with you,” starts Seokjin. “You are someone that none of us were expecting. You intrigue us all. Alpha Yoon has never… NEVER… protected someone outside of Bangtan.”

You glance over at Yoongi, the tips of his ears fluttering, his cheeks hinting rose, and his tail wrapping around your braced wrist.

“Alpha Chim, not Jimin but his Alpha, hasn’t initiated scenting of anyone, mate or not, since Seul-ki left,” your eyes snap to Jimin’s as he nods. “Not only did Jimin-ah tell you about what happened, but Alpha Chim scented you on his own.”

“You have also met Alpha Tae and Alpha Kook. Luna Y/n, you have met over half of our Alphas, and as a mate-bonded high-profile pack, that shouldn’t happen unless there is something special about you.”

“But, I am just me,” you utter softly as a sweet pea, the mate vanilla, and a soft peach scent slowly replaces the lemon tangy.

“Sweets, you are just you, and what you are is amazing. Never forget that,” piped Jungkook.

“Luna Y/n,” Namjoon summons your attention. “I know you ever expected us, and Seokjin-hyung is correct– we never expected you.”

Looking slowly at each of his mates, the Prime Alpha settles back on you, “The additional clause is included because we all feel this longing to be close to you. One of the ways we, as hybrids, get close to someone is through physical means, like how Yoongi-hyung is holding you by his tail right now, or Hoseok-hyung did by scenting your hair when he came in.”

“However, the average human considers most of what we do to be close to one another as intimate. As a pack, we want not to limit our interactions with you. We want to see where we end up naturally with you, Luna,” explains Namjoon.

“Princess, remember that no matter what we want, if you do not want something… please tell us. This goes for anything from holding hands and hugs to cuddling and scenting. If any of the pack members do not listen, I will declare a Challenge to them, and I expect them to do the same with me,” Yoongi adds quickly to ensure clarity and security.

A few comments of agreement are heard, along with Derek muttering under his breath that he “will Challenge if they don’t,” which also causes snickers around the table.

“Ah… well… okay…. I think that is understandable. From what I have experienced so far with getting closer to some of you, the scenting has been very different from what happens with Y/l/n Pack. So, it makes sense that you have that included,” you concur. “But what about the integration part?”

“As you saw with Taehyung-ah’s display this morning, Alphas protect what we consider ours,” Jimin says with a sight smirk. “He isn’t the only one wanting to make it known to others that you are not theirs.”

Next to Jimin, Jungkook’s ears drop as he hides behind them. The action causes you to giggle, and the vanilla mate scent from you grows, drawing the attention of the Bangtan Pack to you.

Yoongi tries to hide his amusement at the awe he finds on the faces of his bonded mates at the change in your scent. Their reaction answers his question about the bond becoming stronger.

Your attention, however, has gone to the contract before you, and the reality of your situation is starting to settle in. You are becoming a Playmate of the Bangtan Pack, and they don’t want to limit interactions. Are they changing yet another part of the contract because of you, or is it for you?

Does that mean you are not alone in your reactions to their advances? You can call those behaviors advances now, can’t you? All you know is that nothing will be the same over the next seven weeks. While your mind is imagining a trillion things that could go wrong, your heart and soul cannot wait for the adventure ahead.

The others around the table agree with everything said so far. Even Director Johnson and Derek have huge smiles and a knowing glint in their eyes.

“Sugar, your scent is turning again. What are you thinking about?” Worries the youngest Alpha, reaching out towards you but stops as he is unsure if it will help.

You attempt to give him a reassuring smile before you turn to sit sideways in your seat. Sitting like this allows you to see Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung.

The three wild cards. You need to talk to them. You want to ensure they want this and not just consent to the contract because of some ‘majority rules’ thing. You need to talk to them without Namjoon or Yoongi around.

“Prime Alpha, Sir, I wish to discuss a few questions with some of your bonded mates. Do I have your permission to speak with them privately?” you ask.

You can feel the room tense up. Looking at Namjoon, you see his face is pensive, but he nods, “You may, Luna Y/n. Do you wish for us to relocate, or do you have another room that you would like to use?”

“Miss Y/n, why don’t we step out? I could use a coffee, and I am sure a few of us may need a break,” Director Johnson offers. He knows the other conference room wouldn’t grant you privacy because of the observation room.

“Thank you, Director. I think that would be a good idea. If Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung would be so kind as to remain, we could discuss a few things,” you say, but your eyes never leave Namjoon's. Watching the expression change to one of understanding.

“As you wish, Luna,” responds Taehyung, but your heart tugs at the thought he is only willing to stay because he is in trouble with you and the Prime Alpha because of this morning.

“Hoseok-hyung and Jimin-ah, are you comfortable staying?” asks Derek. The questioned Alphas nod and smile, prompting the PMS representation to stand.

“Wonderful. If the rest come with me, I can show you where the cafe and restrooms are. Also, answer any questions you may have,” informs the Director, giving the remaining Bangtan packmates no room to wiggle their way into staying.

At this point, you are actively avoiding Yoongi’s staring as it is boring into your head. You know that if you were to look at him, you would give in and ask him to stay.

Doing this, however, allows you to see the concerned look shared between Jungkook and Hoseok and the quiet conversation between Seokjin, Namjoon, and Derek. Slowly, you feel the drag of Yoongi’s tail uncurling from you as he and the others follow the director out.

After what feels like the longest tour ever, the Director leaves with Derik with the mention to let the front desk know when everyone is ready to resume the meeting.

Coming out of his fog, Jin realizes they have returned to the break room where it all started. Looking around, he takes in his pack mates.

Jungkook has attached himself to Yoongi, looking like he lost his best friend. Yoongi attempts to comfort the young Alpha, but his ears are pinned on the break room door, and he is undoubtedly listening for any indication that Y/n and the others are ready to continue.

Namjoon also watches them, his tail hanging low and his ears flicking between laying flat and listening for something. Jin is thankful that the Prime Alpha could hold the conversation during the tour, allowing the rest to be in their own world.

Jungkook is the first to break the silence. With hushed tones, he asks, “Do you… why do you… she isn’t leaving, right, Joon-hyung?”

Looking at the door, Namjoon sighs. “I don’t think she is. I think she just has questions. It’s best not to jump to conclusions, Kookie.”

“Y/n knows our scents,” Jin blurts out to the room. His eyes bounced between them all.

“She can do what?” Namjoon steps closer to Jin. “How can she do that?”

“I don’t know, Joon. While on our date, she told me that she knows Yoongi’s, Kook’s, mine, and even Jimin’s scents. Guys, she was right in them all,” he says with wide eyes.

“She knows my scent. Our new mate knows my scent. She has to be bonding with us then, right?” asks a hopeful Jungkook.

“I mentioned earlier that her vanilla mate scent was getting stronger around me. That is an indication that the bond is becoming solidified. She must be growing the bonds with the mates that have shown their Alphas or scented her,” offers Yoongi.

“I figured she is bonding with Jimin and Taehyung, so why the private meeting with them? I would think she would want to meet with those she cannot recognize,” contemplates Seokjin as he moves to sit next to his mates on the small couch.

“I don’t know, hyung. I just hope that whatever answers they give her are the answers she needs to hear,” laments the Prime Alpha.

With Namjoon’s last words, the room falls silent, and each speculates what is happening in the conference room.

“If you are waiting for the pack to be far enough away to not listen in to the conversation, they are. I can’t hear anything,” Taehyung offers.

“I wasn’t, but that is good to know. Thank you. Can you please take a seat? I want to talk to Alpha Taehyung and not “currently being punished” Taehyung,” you ask, gesturing to the seats next to his packmates.

Taehyung looks at you with confusion and then looks past you to Hoseok, who subtly shakes his head. Standing up, Taehyung takes the seat to your left. “Luna, what is it you want to talk about?”

Turning to sit straight in your chair, you clasp your hands together on the table and take a deep breath.

This is it.

“I know I came outta nowhere,” you state plainly.  “I can see that you were happy and untroubled before I crashed into your lives and the lives of your mates. I have absolutely no desire to ruin your bond with Yoongi, Jungkook, and Seokjin.”

“Y/n, you aren’t…” Hoseok starts to say, but you cut him off. “Let me finish. Please?”

After a moment of silence, you continue, “I understand there is a cultural and instinctual obligation between Yoongi and me, but it doesn’t have to involve everyone else. Seokjin and Jungkook have also grown an attachment to me. For the life of me, I have also grown attached to them. All three of them.”

Feeling the tightness in your chest and the slight tremble of your hands, you take a deep breath, hoping to remain calm and not cry. You can hear one of the hybrids in the room shifting in their seat, probably impatient with you for keeping you from getting this over with.

“I know your Prime Alpha signs onto any contract the pack enters into, as most pack leaders do, but the three of you have a choice.” A sharp intake of breath. A scrap of a chair, you continue, “I will support and stand against Namjoon if any of you wants to back out of the contract presented to us today.”

Silence followed your words, but you didn’t dare look at them.

Your words strike Jimin with strength beyond description right now. Even if it meant going against a Prime Alpha hybrid, you would support them. Most other Alphas, heck… hybrids refuse to challenge a Prime Alpha, much less a human, but here you are. Do you understand how selfless your actions are?

Taehyung is cursing himself in every language he knows, maybe even some he makes up. Before this morning’s fiasco, he would have bet money that you would allow him to have a scenting session with you, but with what you are saying right now, he isn’t even sure you would let him get close enough to do it on accident.

If you only knew who you are, it would explain why the choice you gave them is not an option, even if it has a meaningful impact. It would also help you see why he had to act as he did this morning, whether it was over the top or not.

The only calm one in the room is Hoseok. Unlike the younger mates in the room, he remembers the words that your Beta has said before and the warnings that were given. One of the things Hoseok can tell is how touch-starved you are; your actions also show that you are trained to deny it, and it coincides with the warnings. This presents a problem for later since he has also been watching you around his mates. Observing how the mate bonds between you and Yoongi and you and Jungkook are practically glowing because it seems your mate bond only grows through that physical touch.

However, right now, the three of them must find a way to convince you that they want to be there. Despite their lack of skinship with you, they would want nothing more than you to be by their side for the rest of their days.

“Y/n, I would like to address you as just Y/n, not Luna Y/n or Miss Y/l/n. May I do that?” Hoseok asks with a gentle tone.

Finally, looking away from your hands, you meet the marten hybrid gaze, “Of course, Hoseok.”

“First, I would like to offer my apologies for not being available to get to know you better. Tomorrow is one of my free days, and I would enjoy nothing more than spending time with you and my other available mates.”

Leaning forward, he continues, “Second, I want to apologize for not following through on my promise to keep you laughing. I have every intention of signing the contract and following through.”

“Hyung is right,” Jimin joins in. “I promised to be your friend, but a friend is just the start. Any strong relationship that lasts has a friendship deeply entwined within. My Alpha has been after me to close the distance between us, and I also want to. I have never even thought of not signing the contract, nor will I ever.”

Your breathing starts to return to normal as they speak, and your scent begins to blend into your sweet pea because two of the Alphas want to keep going. You can tell by their honest expressions, the sincerity of their words, and the openness of their posture that they are following their own path and not being forced, as you had worried.

That leaves one more. Both Alphas across from you have turned their attention to the tiger sitting next to you with fondness in their eyes.

“Y/n, can you look at me please?” Taehyung asks with uncertainty. Your eyes are still on Hoseok when he glances back at you and nods toward the awaiting Alpha.

Closing your eyes and tilting your face downward, you turn in your seat to angle yourself to face him. Taking the chance, you open your eyes and look at the man before you.

The intensity of his stare is not what you were expecting. A swirl of emotions in his eyes conveys dominance, worry, anger, hope, and panic. Meanwhile, you can almost feel the tension he is holding in his posture.  His back isn’t straight because he is trying to look at you from the same level, his tail is snapping behind him, and his ears are pinned so far down that you can’t see them anymore.

Simultaneously, you want to run from the predator before you and lose yourself in him. All you end up doing is saying his name in a way that shows just how breathless he has made you, “Taehyung.”

“No.”

That word breaks you out of the enthrallment you swore the tiger hybrid turned vampire had you under. Shaking your head in confusion, you open your mouth to question everything when he continues.

“No, you didn’t crash into our lives. We wanted you before you got injured. Jin-hyung, Jimin-ah, and Jungkook-ah had all asked about making you ours before we met anyone else.

“No, you cannot and would not ruin any bond that any of the Bangtan bonded mates have. In fact, despite what you may think, all of us have grown attached to you.” Taehyung takes your hands in. His eyes soften into a fondness you haven’t seen before, saying, “There is no way that contract will be missing any of our signatures. Everyone wants you in our lives.”

You are still trying to process it all and are at a loss for words.

Taehyung just gave you a surplus of information that you never thought possible. Your heart fluttered and skipped beats. It’s slightly overwhelming but comforting.

A gentle thumb on your cheek pulls you out of your gaze at Taehyung, and you see Hoseok kneeling next to your chair, wiping the tears you didn’t know had fallen.

“Pretty, Taehyung is correct in everything he said. We all want to be around you for at least the next eight weeks. Each of us wants to grow this connection with you to see where it goes,” Hoseok says, now cradling your face in his palm.

“Y/n,” Jimin calls your attention as he stands behind the kneeling Alpha. “None of us are signing the contract or inviting you into our lives because of an accident.”

“No one is being forced, either,” Jimin clarifies before you can express any doubt. “Maybe one day you should ask Manager Sejin and Namjoon about the argument they had with Bang PD-nim while we were on the flight after he heard your voice over the phone.”

“You guys have no idea… No, I have no idea what to say. You three have said plenty,” you chuckle at your misspoken words.

Pulling your hands out of Taehyung’s, you lay one over Hoseok’s and snuggle into the warmth. After collecting yourself, you say, “Thank you for everything you have expressed. I feel a lot calmer about everything. Yoongi had said to look to him, Jungkook, and Seokjin to see how things should be.”

“He isn’t wrong. However, I would much rather have what you have with them be experienced with the rest of us,” says Taehyung as he slides the contract closer to you.

The contract's last page rests on top; it’s the signature page. Per standard procedure, Derik and Director Johson sign the copies before the meeting.

But that is not what catches your attention.

Every signature line is filled but one…

Yours.

“Luna y/n, Miss Y/n, Yoongi’s princess, Seokjin’s dear, Jungkook’s sugar, my pretty, and all the additional names to come…” Hoseok holds out a pen to you and asks, “Will you please give us a chance?”

Previous / Next

Taglist - Closed

@braveangel777 @bethanysnow @danielle143 @nenefix-on @im-gemmy @fluffy-canada-pancakes @staytinyville @juju-227592 @levislifeline @carolinexkpop @m00njinnie @drenix004 @singukieee @avadakadabra93 @dazzlingjade @sehun096rainbow @sunshinecallie @seoullove96 @reallysparklychaos @tired7o7 @channiespup @cryingpages @kittycatkrissa @captain-joongz @roseidol @hecateslittlewitchling @ayoo-bangtan @someshinesomedont @cerulean1riz @butterfliesinthenightsky @kayways

[lotusbxtch]

and I lost you [TS drabble challenge]

Here's my entry into @beskarandblasters's Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge! I got Maroon and Joel. Get ready for Angst City®️! (Divider by @saradika-graphics)

Song: Maroon (Midnights) Pedro boy: Joel Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x ex!f!Reader (written in Joel's POV) Word Count: 686 Warnings/tags: post-outbreak, Joel's POV, no use of y/n, unspecified age gap, alcohol consumption, infidelity, aaaaangst, heavy reference to Taylor Swift lyrics, not beta'd

Joel lay awake in his bed, shifting his position for the umpteenth time while his memories play over and over in his head. No matter how he wraps his flannel sheets around himself, the bed is never as warm as it is when you were in it with him. But that’s all gone to shit now that he’s lost you.

He knows he’s made a fool of himself. Knows that he’s failed you. You - beautiful, charming, the only one to slip past his defenses, the walls he put up around himself to keep out everything, even the good. He let you into his home and his heart, let you fill it with laughter. He remembers how you told him stories about your college days before the outbreak, about your vinyl shelf full of records, of nights where you woke up on the floor in the late morning after too much cheap rose wine. He told you stories about Sarah, whom he never talked about to anyone besides you and Tommy. Her prowess at soccer, how she would help out their elderly neighbors, the watch she got fixed for him for his birthday - the day before his world ended. He felt safe with you, and you with him. You chose him, and he chose you.

He doesn’t know when it started. But you’d been frustrated with Tommy’s reliance on Joel for border patrol; you felt that he was putting himself in unnecessary amounts of danger. Arguments started cropping up, and more than once you’d left the house to stay at Tommy and Maria’s after particularly bad fights. On more than one of those occasions, he’d trudged to the Tipsy Bison to drown his sorrows and avoid his feelings. And on one of those nights, he let temptation win out.

She was one of Maria’s friends, older than you were, closer to Joel’s age. She’d always blatantly flirted with him, despite him mentioning you and everyone knowing you and Joel were together. She was one of those women who liked challenges, who wanted to play games. She didn’t like that Joel resisted all of her advances, so she waited until he was at his weakest to pounce. Too many whiskeys in, Joel had let her drag him behind the bar. Had let her kiss him, his lips barely moving back against hers in response. She promised she could make him feel better than you did, that he didn’t need a girl like you, he needed a woman - despite you being more of a woman than she could even dream of. He didn’t stop her when she kissed down his neck, when she left marks along his collarbone - ones he knew you’d notice. He was just so mad at you for being right about the patrol shifts, but he felt guilty saying no to Tommy after all this time apart from him. His awful defense mechanisms figured that if you had left the house, it meant you didn’t want him or need him, and he wanted to forget.

But he was so wrong. When he stumbled back to the house, he didn’t expect you to be there. Didn’t think you’d be sipping red wine at the counter, waiting for him. So when he entered the living room, his button-up disheveled, the darkening hickey across his collarbone clear as day, you looked shell-shocked, then distraught, then more angry than you’d ever been before. You took the glass you’d been drinking out of and flung the contents at him, the burgundy splashing onto his t-shirt and face. You said nothing as you stormed out of the house, but right before you slammed the door, he heard the most heart-wrenching sob begin to wrack your chest as you held your head in your hands. 

He felt like his heart had been strangled, but he knew everything was his fault. He deserved the full weight of the hurt he made you endure. Laying awake with your memory over him, he realized what a real fucking legacy his betrayal was to leave to you, the one he chose, the one who had chosen him.

[zhoufeis]

What just bothers me simply about the discussion of TTPD being all so great is neither the fact that some reviewers literally ignore some of the very gruesome lyrics this album has to offer nor the fact that the whole album has the same tune and I could not tell apart these tracks even if I wanted to, no. After all, we can always argue that tastes are different... arguably. It's something utterly different that's bothering me.

It's three things entirely different.

1) The fact we pretend 31 break-up tracks, written entirely out of the perspective of victimhood, of some love stories are worth calling "The Tortured Poets Department". Mind you, Swift, I like love songs, I like break-up songs, I like them poetically, I like when they touch me. But writing 31 break-up songs (not entirely, right, more like 25 or so) for one album makes me wonder if there is anything deeper... more touching to write about. You stay on the surface describing relationships (romantic as well as parasocial) in which you come out as a victim. But the self-reflection is missing entirely. And if I learned one thing in language classes it's that it's poetically dull if we only ever stay on the surface. We gotta dig deeper. And I'm not referring to some poetic lines to make a song sound more beautiful. I'm talking about true depth, true self-reflection, something that makes you defenseless. Cause all this woman does is writing songs out of the perspective of defense - and victimhood. Never does she actually draw herself as defenseless or vulnerable, always knowing how to use the right words to make her fans defend her.

2) Which leads me to that other thing that really bothers me. Her PR team was more involved in this album than the persona of Taylor Swift could ever be. Or maybe Taylor Swift is only PR at this point. Maybe there is no actual person behind all of this. Cause if there's one thing that's utterly apparent, it is that this album hinges SOLELY on any media drama she was involved in. Everyone out there trying to decipher which song is about whom - is this storytelling? Is this poetry? If I only care about songs and judge them by who they are about? The beauty of music is that it binds people together, makes people feel heard or seen through the text and voice of another person. What she's doing isn't that. She is not binding people together by selling her songs as something that could happen to anyone, no, all of it is always only about one person's story - her own. She also doesn't create fictional stories to write about, things to further the limits of our imagination and tell a story that doesn't even exist, and never will. She doesn't use imagination, she doesn't try to connect to other people, she's trying only to connect people to HER. Can this album even be judged neutrally if everyone just knows about her relationships and is guessing who the songs are about? Is there one person out there like "I have never seen any of the TS relationship drama and the like, and I only like to review this album lyrically and sonically by the lyrics and tune within"? Because she is SO present in everyday media press, it is impossible to miss her relationship drama. So are we actually still reviewing Swift's album as a standalone media for its sound and lyrics? Or are we actually just reviewing TS's terrible love life which she apparently has no responsibility for? And mind you all - she knows exactly what she's doing. Don't even think for a second she doesn't know that you all are following her every footstep. Don't think she doesn't use it to her advantage. (Aside from that, she has been considered a storyteller for so long, but she seems to have a lack of stories she can come up with if the only ones she writes about are her own...)

3) Which leads to the entire capitalist thinking behind the release of this album. Not only did she publish 19 different versions of this album to be acquired, no, she also literally had millions of fans pre-ordering her (normal-length) album, only to drop an extended version right after its release. Which means that all these fans had to buy yet another album. And don't think she meant this as a surprise for her fans - she did that cause that's how you make money. Cause that's how capitalism works. And she's part of the problem.

[blueiscoool]

Connie Converse: The 'Genius' of a Singer Who Was Ahead of Her Time - Then Disappeared

Connie Converse failed to find fame as a singer-songwriter in the 1950s, then mysteriously disappeared without a trace. On the 100th anniversary of her birth - and approaching the 50th anniversary of her disappearance - she's now remembered as a great lost talent.

In January 1961, an unknown Bob Dylan arrived in Greenwich Village with a guitar in his hand and $12 in his pocket, on his way to revolutionising popular music with his poetic, personal songs.

Maybe he brushed past Connie Converse as she went the other way. She moved out of the New York neighbourhood that same month, after a decade of struggling to get significant attention for her own intimate, sophisticated and beautiful songs.

There is a parallel universe where Converse was the one who got the big break, and she is a household name.

At least, that’s the theory put forward in a recent book called How To Become Famous – not a manual, but about why some talented people become successful and others stay in the shadows.

It imagines a world where Converse is "widely known" as "the most original, and perhaps the greatest, of the folk singers of the 1950s and 1960s", who influenced everyone from Dylan to Taylor Swift, and for whom "a Nobel Prize is not out of the question".

Musician and author Howard Fishman, who published Converse’s biography, To Anyone Who Ever Asks, last year, also thinks Converse could have made it big.

"I love to think about an alternate reality in which Connie Converse’s music did receive the recognition it deserved in its own time, and she became a recognised for the musical genius that she was," he says.

"I almost think a better version of American cultural history could have happened, had that been the case."

But How To Become Famous author Cass Sunstein concedes that Converse wasn't better than Dylan. She also faced barriers because she was a woman. And perhaps her clever, melodic and mostly melancholic songs just never quite had mass appeal.

They dealt with subjects like loneliness, promiscuity, quarrelling lovers, and frequenting saloons in the afternoons. It's certainly hard to imagine them really catching on in the early 50s, an age dominated by schmaltzy crooners, folk purists and show tunes.

"She didn't sound like anybody else that was making music in her own day," says Fishman. "And she doesn't sound like anybody else making music now, to my ears."

British singer Vashti Bunyan became a Connie Converse convert after a recommendation from US DJ David Garland, the first person to play her songs in 2004.

"I couldn't believe that they were [recorded] so long ago, it was the 1950s," Bunyan says. "And just to hear her speaking in a way that I would have always wanted to speak was very moving.

"She was completely ahead of her time, and it must have been very hard for her. She must have felt isolated.

"If she had any ambition for her songs, she must have known how good they were, how clever and funny and wonderful they were, and poetic. But other people didn't seem to recognise that kind of genius writing at the time."

Bunyan knows what it's like to have her music "rediscovered" decades later. She released an album in 1970, which has gained cult status in more recent years. She says their stories are very different, but agrees there is an allure to the idea of "the discovery of something from so long ago".

"And how lucky that she was recorded," she says. "Connie was recorded by her friends, and none of those recordings were supposed to be commercially released.

"But it's so wonderful that they have been, that they have been found. And it makes you wonder about all the other people that weren't."

Converse was recorded at the home of one of her friends and champions, Gene Deitch, but she never released any music in her time. She performed for small groups of supporters, but never played a proper concert. She made one TV appearance, but that led nowhere.

Ellen Stekert, a folk historian who was also performing in the 1950s, believes Converse was just "too different" to have "made it".

"I think she was wonderful. I think she was totally out of sequence of any kind of cultural impulse," she says.

"She was self-contained, and also self-isolated. It was too bad somebody could not break through that."

Converse did have her supporters, but any female singer at that time needed to be backed by a man with the right connections, Stekert says. And Converse was socially awkward, and not good at self-promotion.

"Unfortunately, she didn't have much social understanding of things. She did not have a very good rapport, I think, with people.

"Evidently, she had very bad teeth and her body odour also was fairly prominent. And those are two factors in middle-class America that will make sure you don't make it any place."

Converse worked for a printing company and then for the Institute of Pacific Relations. After leaving New York in 1961, she became editor of the Journal for Conflict Resolution in Michigan, and her intellectual activities, and peace and anti-racism activism, were highly regarded.

But then, her life seemed to lose purpose and direction. On 10 August 1974, a week after her 50th birthday, she posted letters to family and friends, telling some she was returning to New York.

She drove out of Ann Arbor and has not been heard from since. Neither her body nor her car was found.

A new life?

"As far as we know, she never made it to New York," Fishman says.

"As far as we know, she never made it anywhere.

"I'd love to think that she started a new life somewhere else, and that she lived more years. But who knows?"

On Saturday 3 August, exactly 100 years after Converse’s birth, Fishman is in her home town - Concord, New Hampshire - for a ceremony to give the singer her first official recognition.

Her music has gradually spread over the past 20 years. So, too, has her story, and the mystery of her disappearance is often the first thing that gets people's attention.

"The unfortunate and darkly poetic thing is that she needed to disappear in order for us to see her," Fishman says. "That was the hook that was needed for us to pay attention to her.

"But what I always say is, don't focus on how she disappeared, focus on how she lived, because her life is so much more fascinating and meaningful, and has so much more to teach us than the fact that at age 50, she felt that she had to vanish."

By Ian Youngs.

[smutinlove]

hiii could you do a fic(carl grimes x fem!reader) where its based on the song called eyes dont lie? it could be a small suggestive/fluffy thing? and could it be set in a world where zombies dont exist?

could it be preferably short? less than 700 words??? thank you, smutinlove!!!!

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You hated going to parties with your parents, but the one thing you always enjoyed was the view. But not the view off of the Eiffel Tower, but that one-eyed, brown-haired, blue-eyed, suit-wearing man named Carl Grimes. 

Carl Grimes' parents were your parent's business partners. So, you often saw him around. But whenever you looked at him or stared back at him, his piercing and intimidating blue eyes would greet you.

But to you, he was the most beautiful man you'd ever seen. He didn't even have to try, as he already looked divine. You wished he had told you that he was yours. But you two never said anything more than the casual "hi" or "hello." It killed you to wait every week to see him, but it was always worth the wait. 

There he was, standing across the room in a corner while he secretly took a sip of wine. He hid his wine from everyone else, but you knew. 

Speaking of secrets, you've always wanted to feel his body against yours, your hands in his hair, as he rapidly and passionately kissed you hard. But that was one of many secrets that you chose to not tell a single soul. 

You felt someone tap your shoulder. You turned around and saw him. "Hey," he said with a smirk. You crossed your arms and said, "Sorry? Do I know you?" You laughed a little too hard at that. He tilted his head to the left, "You're going to regret that. So, so, fucking much, you cunt." He spat. Then he smiled and whispered something in your ears that made you blush.

"I saw the way you were looking at me. Eyes don't fucking lie, Y/N."

"Oh, our kids are finally getting along!" A voice echoed. She was truly a beautiful woman. Carl Grimes' mother was extraordinarily pretty. "Yeah!" You put an arm around him and pulled him close. "We're the greatest of friends, right, Carl?" You nudged him slightly, and he took the hint.

"The greatest," he said through gritted teeth. Lori Grimes was about to speak when someone whisked her off into God knows where with God knows who.

"Doll," he muttered. You pinched him, "I ain't your fucking doll, and you ain't my fucking friend." He gasped dramatically and inched closer towards you, "Ouch, sweets, that hurt." He whispered in your ear. He grabbed your hand, but before you could protest, he said, "Come on doll. I have something to show you." 

And curious to see what he wanted to show you, you let him take you with him.

He led you outside of the grand venue and into the big and luscious garden. The smell of roses and peonies excited you; going into big and luscious gardens wasn't new to you, but with Carl, here it was even better. 

"Doll," he said with pure lust in his eyes. "Like I said before, I'm not your fucking—" He flashed his award-winning smile and leaned in, kissing you gently. His hands tugged at your hair as he kissed you with so much passion that you were able to differentiate the words 'who' and 'whom.'

"Carl, stop, we can't—"

"I saw the way you looked at me, pretty girl. You had so much lust in your eyes. Now, I kinda wanna pin you against a wall and fuck you until you're a panting mess."

───── ❝ authors note ❞ ─────

AU2EINWSMSKEJDEIJKLMWIDEJIOA. OHHHH FOR CARL TO CALL ME A PRETTY GIRL. OHHHHHHHHHH IT WOULD MAKE ME SO HAPPYYYYYYYY OH LOVERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR MY LOVER WHERE HAVE YOU GONE????? I WOULD SAVE A SEAT FOR YOU AT EVERY TABLE DARLING I WOULD OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH LOVER

[camlannpod]

Character Playlist: Peredur Green

Happy off-week! We'll all pretend this one was on time. If you're new, hi! Since Camlann releases every two weeks, on the off weeks I'm posting these breakdowns of the character playlists. You can find Morgan's here and Dai's here.

This week it's time for our favourite knight, Peredur!

Brother by The Brilliance

When I look into the face Of my enemy I see my brother I see my brother

Perry's big problem is that they're a knight. And they love the other knights. They feel a siblinghood with them which is incredibly hard for them to ignore. The knights are their family, their home, their story - the place they're meant to be. But it's a family that won't accept them as they are. Perry so badly wants the knights to change their mind.

2. Battle Cry by The Family Crest

Oh, my love, my heart don't cry We were born to die But for this moment, for all time Oh, I will fight for you I will die for you

Perry's a knight! They very much see it as their duty to fight and die to protect the people they love. Right now, that especially means Morgan and Dai, who they've been travelling with since their escape from the Knights. Perry will risk life and limb to keep them safe. (This song is also about Dai. A lot of these songs are about how Perry feels about Dai)

3. Cypress Queen by The Last Bison

On and over the northwest river We go trusting in the Cypress Queen She'll keep us afloat We retreat into our fortress gold To a sanctuary in the trees That i call home

I'm 90% sure this song is about a boat? But I took it literally - this is Perry's feelings about Guinevere, or Shújūn - a woman who they certainly do not trust for us, but to whom they are drawn by their story and with whom they, deep down, have a lot of sympathy. Perry knows exactly what it's like to have a major role in someone else's narrative.

4. See You Through My Eyes by The Head and The Heart

Until you learn to love yourself The door is locked to someone else I'm just as damaged as you are

Perry is just as traumatised by the apocalypse as everyone else, they're just better at hiding it. In general their approach toward their emotions is to pack them up tightly in a box and pretend they're not happening, which is obviously wildly unhealthy. Perry spends so much of their time inspired by and loving their friends, especially Morgan and Dai, but they never open up when they need to and trust them with the more 'difficult' parts of themself.

5. Carry by Branches

I'm feeling like Moses and my arms are getting heavy Brother, would you come and lift them up for me?

Perry has been single handedly carrying Morgan and Dai through the apocalypse. They would never admit it, but this is exhausting, and they desperately need a break. Unfortunately for them, they live in a riddle-twisted landscape full of magic and monsters, so they can never truly relax. They need to stop and they can't, and sometimes they think hey, if they lost the next battle at least they wouldn't have to get up and fight another one.

6. House a Habit by We Are The Guests

Let's make this house a habit Let's make the sun shine

Partly because Perry is Permanently Exhausted, they very badly want to turn the cottage into a real, meaningful home base that feels safe. Perry has always been the kind of person to put down roots, and the last six months of trekking back and forth across Britain has really worn them down. They desperately want this place to be a real home.

7. Selkie-Boy by Spell Songs, Julie Fowlis

Go now, Selkie-Boy, swim from the shore Rinse your ears clean of human chatter And empty your bones of heather and moor And your mind of human matter

Honestly, Dai fascinates Perry. He is completely unlike them in almost every way and they find that beautiful and addictive. They've always felt that there was something ethereal about him and his ability to find hope and love in even the darkest places. Perry would follow Dai anywhere.

8. Church Key by Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Have you gone farther looking in the dark For a fire that can keep you warm Wander off the trail, lose track of all the details Till we make it to our door, where we can sleep

Oh Perry wants answers. The Cataclysm is an apocalypse of contradictions and mysteries and Perry so very badly wants to untangle the cat's cradle of stories in which they are caught. They are also exactly the kind of obsessive academic who will wear themself thin looking for the information they seek. Eventually, they just need to rest.

9. We Will All Be Changed by Seryn

We can write with ink and pen But we will sew with seeds instead Starting with words we've said And we will all be changed

The song on every main character playlist! For Perry, the apocalypse is a lesson in moving from theory to applied learning - from writing about flowers to planting seeds in the soil. It's fieldwork! In more ways than one, and in more ways than one, it's good for them, despite everything.

[kenllre]

Eliphas Levi “La porte du prophete” BAND PROFILE Translation

Here’s an Eliphas Levi Q&A style band profile from the Key Party fanclub magazine La porte du prophete. It contains info about the members such as their birthdays, height/weight, favourite food, etc. I am not fluent in Japanese and mostly used machine translation, but I’ve done my best to use it effectively to make the translation as accurate as possible. Big thank you to @biologicalslicer​ for scanning the magazine! You can find their post with the scans here. Read under the cut! 

(Extra notes are asterisked)

Q1. Date of birth - Place of birth

Kei: March 9 - “The Little Castle in the Forest of Dolls in the Land of the Poets”

Shuri: December 24 - Nagano Prefecture

Camus: February 28 - Nagano Prefecture

Kyouka - December 20 - Tokyo

Q2. Blood type

Kei: A

Shuri: B

Camus: A

Kyouka: O

Q3. Height - Weight

Kei: Small... light...

Shuri: 167cm - 47kg 

Camus: 176cm (*didn’t give his weight)

Kyouka: 174cm - Heavy

Q4. Eye colour - Eyesight

Kei: The colour of a doll... - Bad

Shuri: Brown - 20/20

Camus: Black - 1.0 or higher

Kyouka: Black - 0.7 (right eye) 1.5 (left eye)

Q5. Foot size 

Kei: About 25cm

Shuri: 24cm

Camus: ~27cm

Kyouka: 26.5~27 cm

Q6. Favourite brand

Kei: I’m not too picky about Gaultier or Batu... Whatever works for me.

Shuri: Patchy and Jean Paul Gaultier 

Camus: Katharine Hamnett, Trans Continents, Scoop, Gucci, etc 

Kyouka: Prada and P&D

Q7. Self analysis of your personality

Kei: I don’t know much..

Shuri: Calm but... rather short tempered

Camus: Logical. Tries to know things he doesn’t need to know. Needs meaning in everything

Kyouka: Unanalyzable

Q8. Favourite food

Kei: Onigiri, sushi, jelly, ice, fruit, etc

Shuri: Sweet stuff

Camus:  Nothing special

Kyouka: Pudding and cream puff

Q9. Food you dislike

Kei: Sea urchin

Shuri: Carrots and tea

Camus: Wagashi (*a Japanese confection)

Kyouka: Green pepper, eggplant, watermelon

Q10. Favourite music

Kei: The Cranberries, Radiohead, Nirvana

Shuri: Gothic, metal, classic

Camus: I like music itself

Kyouka: Various

Q11.  Favourite type of woman

Kei: People.. Cure/Marilyn Manson.. someone who is kind and sweet, and only loves me and looks at me, and doesn’t lie to me, and is firm and has a beautiful heart... (*i have no clue why he mentioned the cure and marilyn manson)

Shuri: Someone who has an old-fashioned and mysterious charm

Camus: Someone who is trying to develop themselves

Kyouka: Someone who knows how you feel without you having to say a word

Q12. Type of woman you dislike

Kei: People who have a bad character and lie

Shuri: Challenging people that lie

Camus: People who pretend to be something they’re not 

Kyouka: People who don’t understand your feelings

Q13. What do you not want in the world?

Kei: Conflict, hate, crime, and discrimination

Shuri: Cockroaches, betrayal, lethal weapons

Camus: Masks of the mind such as appearance or vanity

Kyouka: Cockroaches, sweet bell pepper, eggplant, watermelon, summer, Ohashi Kyoizumi 

Q14. What is death to you?

Kei: Karei Naru D no Sangeki (*one of eliphas levi’s songs)

Shuri: A cruel and sad story

Camus: Nothing but death

Kyouka:  I’ll talk about it in a future issue...

Q15. On the day the world is destroyed, where will you be and with whom?

Kei: It was a quieter day than usual.. I wanted to be with so many people, so I put on my wings and climbed up into the open sky... and I drew what I wanted to draw in my mind, and then I fell asleep.

Shuri: Let’s think that everyone is enjoying LIVE at a live concert!

Camus: Enjoying the day without thinking of the future.

Kyouka: Eating salmon chazuke at a table in Inokashira Park with my beloved.

[pennyduckton]

⧙ TERESA PALMER, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER︔ is that PENNY DUCKTON I see on Main Street? The 34 year old WITCH has been on the island for 4 MONTHS, humming the song BELIEVE IN LOVE by MARINA. They remind me of LOW GLOWING NEON LIGHTS OF A DEAD BAR, LONG BLONDE TRESSES BLOWING IN THE SALTY OCEAN WINDS, A TINY FLICKERING CANDLE IN A SEA OF DARKNESS.

quick facts.

FULL NAME: Penny Jasmine Duckton

NICKNAMES: Pen

SPECIES: Witch (she doesn't know)

AGE: thirty-four

BIRTHDAY: 15th July

GENDER & PRONOUNS: cisfemale & sher/her

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: heterosexual

FAMILY: Mother (Deceased), Father (Unknown), Son (put up for adoption at birth)

RELATIONSHIPS STATUS: single

FACECLAIM: Teresa Palmer

HAIR: Long blonde hair past shoulders, usually in a messy pony, very rarely down

EYES: Sapphire blue - a lot of people comment how blue they are.

TRAITS: sarcastic, honest, loyal, funny, fearful, hot-headed, snarky

OCCUPATION: Bartender on Main Street / Training Therapist

bio.

Penny Jasmine Duckton was born in London - this time.

You know some people say they've lived before...well that is precisely the case with Penny. Centuries ago, in her first life, she was known as Elizabeth. She'd fled from an arranged marriage, her father wanted her to boost the family's standing so instead of getting trapped in a loveless marriage - she took to the seas and became pirate.

On her journey she met a man with whom she fell in love with at first sight. It wasn't too long before she discovered that he was a creature of the night, and the whole world of supernaturals was opened up to her.

Despite her asking, he refused to turn her into a vampire - and then it was too later, she was shot in a battle, dying in his arms.

Unfortunately, a witch who had a grudge against the vampire cursed the woman to be reborn every other generation, a doppleganger of sorts. They would always find eachother, and she would always end up dying in his arms. A cursed, eternal love.

Penny (as she is known in this life) has moved to Bar Harbor in the hopes of escaping her past.

When she was barely 18, studying in London, she met a slightly older man. He was a doctor, and she was absolutely swept off her feet with him. They were quick to marry, and before long she fell pregnant.

All seemed perfect, but one night Penny returned home to find the apartment soaked in blood, her husband's body was nowhere to be found. The missing's person case was never solved, and she fell deep into a depression. When her son was born, she couldn't cope with it. Although this angelic, beautiful baby was the only thing she had left of her husband, she couldn't bring herself to look upon his face. Her son's eyes were his eyes and it broke her heart every time she looked into them. And so she gave him away.

The guilt has been plagueing her for years, but even still she got on with her life.

She's always been slightly odd, running on a slightly different wavelength to everyone around her, dreams of things that would eventually come to pass...

About a year ago, she began to have dreams of a strange man, and a place...Bar Harbor...and she was shocked to discover, after a quick google search, that it was a real place. The dreams haunted her for months before she decided to take an extended trip... Now that she's arrived, she's unsure what the dreams were telling her...but she is soon to discover a power within - and a lover from the past - that she had no idea about.

undeveloped connections.

I would loooove for someone to help her realise she's a witch and help teach her the ways of magic.

[cosmicerroraftermath]

What Monster from Folklore Protects you?

Banshee

"Far, far away something made a single ghostly howl, like a banshee in the dark." -Lucy Christopher The banshee, is a creature from Irish Folklore. Though not inherently malevolent, it is said to be a dark omen. The ghostly cries of a weeping woman drift in the air, warning any unfortunate soul who hears of impending death. Following her like the train of a morbidly beautiful wedding dress, a thick fog envelops her skin as she croons a sorrowful, haunting song which is filled with concern and love for her family. This song can be heard a few days before the death of a family member and in most cases the song can only be heard by the person for whom it is intended. Some even go to argue that it is the banshee's unwitting song which kills the person. You care very strongly about your family and friends. Your loyalty towards those whom you care for is unconditional. You are an excellent and reliable friend, trustworthy enough to bear even the darkest of secrets. Secrets which you would gladly carry to the grave unless of course, they harm your loved ones. You will fight tooth and nail to protect the ones you care for, restraint left abandoned. The banshee admires your reslience and passion. It desires to aid you in protecting those you love and to help you navigate a harsh reality just be warned and keep a close eye on the people you love,Your undying loyalty may just become their undoing...

Wendigo

Insatiable hunger... frozen woods... lost... inhuman... depraved. For some, wendigos are a travesty of legend but for others, they are as real as the air we breathe. The bone-chilling tale of the wendigo originates from Algonquian Native American folklore and is the horrifying result of brutal starvation and desperation. A lone hunter strayed from the path, becoming trapped in a snowy wasteland, succumbs to the gnawing craving to fill the hole in his gut... with human flesh. Having grown fond of the flavour, the hunter consumes more and more. With each victim, the hunter finds his humanity slipping away, his body becoming more and more bestial. The hunger does not dissipate either, in fact, it only grows stronger with each passing kill. Yet, the hunter cannot stop himself. He continues to feast on human flesh until he turns into something hardly human. A wendigo. They are said to have the ability to replicate human cries, drawing its victims deeper into the woods and towards their death. You have always been something of an anomaly.  You have never quite fit in. You may seem normal enough but it is as if you don't quite fit into line with everyone else. It is this disconnect which connects the wendigo to you. Maybe you were once a target but now, you are a curiosity. It has dismissed its hunger pangs to observe you. Maybe you remind it tragically of the life it once had. Whatever the reason, it desires to protect that spark you carry, that which should never be extinguished. You have since become rather isolated, putting up a facade to keep others at bay. Perhaps it is this isolation which causes you to lose touch with humanity or the connection with those around you. Maybe you are the type to eat away your problems. Just remember: stick to the path,You never know where desperation may lead you...

//Stole from @gazelessmenagerie​

//Tagging whomsteverthefuck wants​

[gldenhrs]

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐀  "  𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐄  "  𝐒𝐀𝐀𝐃 .

full name:  luciana emerson saad  nicknames:  goes prominately by everyone as luce , only her parents call her by her full name(:  birthdate / zodiac sign :  somewhere in august during leo season . sexual orientation:  heterosexual  place of birth: montreal , canada  nationality:  canadian / american  ethnicity:  mexican / lebanese pets :  two year old malthese called goldie  languages spoken:  english , spanish , conversational lebanese love language :  song writing aka words / actions . residences: los angeles , california  ( main residence )  ,  montreal , canada  (  brought a home for her parents where she frequently visits  )  ,  saint lucia , caribbean  ( vacation home  ) + traits :  magnetic , confident , hardworking , sensual  &   passionate . - traits:  stubborn ,  abrasive , selfish , sarcastic   &  dramatic .

occupation:  singer / songwriter / actress / businesswoman  career claim:  selena gomez  (  career can be found  HERE  ) 

.*   ◞  ╰   quick history   .

born and raised by a middle class fam back in canada , she had a p much great childhood , surrounded by love , support and a healthy relationships which in truth , are a rarity in hollywood but she’s definitely an exception . 

inspired by her mother , an amateur actress , luce tried out for a role on a children’s tv series  barney & friends  , & as a result , appeared regularly on the program from 2002 - 2004 . 

after making her big - screen debut in the family movie  spy kids 3 : game over ( 2003 ) , she auditioned for the disney channel , which eventually led her to have numerous guest appearances on tv  (  suit of life , hannah montana ... )  until she was cast in  wizards of waverly place . the show , for which she also sang the theme song , became an instant hit among the preteens  &  earned her global fame . 

while continuing to star in her hit tv show , she also acted in various tv movies  &  later on blockbusters too . 

she ventured into music as the front woman of  luce & the scene  , an electronic - influenced pop band that produced several dance hits . the group released albums  kiss & tell ( 2009 ) , a year without rain ( 2010 )  &  when the sun goes down ( 2011 ) . 

she soon went solo , forging a solo career with her first studio album called  stars dance ( 2013 ) . subsequent solo albums included revival ( 2015 )  &  rare  ( 2020 ) . the latter of which yielded the hit ballad “ lose you to love me “ . 

luce’s also known for her philanthropic work , much of it accomplished through UNICEF , which in 2009 appointed her a goodwill ambassador .

in 2020 , she also launched her own makeup brand called  rare beauty  which arguably is one of the most successful celebrity makeup brands there is today . 

also in 2022 , she launched her own cooking show called  luce + chef  , thinking it could be fun learn  &  improve her own skills along with her fans . 

.*   ◞  ╰   personality  &  dating life  .

she’s v much still hardworking and humble , her parents still v much present at almost every show and music award ceremony . she knows where she comes from and isn’t afraid to show it (: 

she’s also v much magnetic af that makes people incredibly drawn to her , not to mention the sensual vibes she’s throwing due to her mexican / lebanese roots . 

 incredibly loyal to her friends and family , has a small but decent group of friends in hollywood that she usually hangs with but her ultimate bff isn’t famous yet is a childhood friend from canada that now follows her around everywhere she goes as her “ assistant “  (  think lily from hannah montana hehe ) 

as far as her dating life goes , luce is a big romantic and wears her heart on her sleeve which explains why she dated a  LOT  of men in hollywood , most of whom eventually broke her heart , making her write killer banger songs about them and then moving onto the next romance  (  v tswift of her tbh )

ok that’s it folks !!! i kept this short and sweet ((: also here’s a bit of inspo for the wcs i want bc u bet ur cute ass she wrote songs about her experiences hehehe .... : 

NEW LOVE  ;;  someone who keeps toying with heart , and despite the fact she knows better she cannot help herself ?? she keeps on coming back , even though she knows better , knows she should drop them , but alas ... she cannot .  this can be both a romantic connection or friendship ! 

BE THE ONE  ;;  someone she hurt ??  a friend or a lover , maybe she ran because feelings got too heavy too fast or maybe her busy scendule ultimately caused her to leave them behind ?? either way , this ode is for them , saying she’s wrong , and how she wishes to have them back and for them to give her another chance .  

THINKING ABOUT YOU  ;;  a short lasting fling nobody she had .  sneaking around , 3am calls , late night hotel rooms ....it’s something she can’t stop thinking about . he probably showed her the best time of her life and for whatever reason they decided to call it quits . 

HOTTER THAN HELL  ;;  fwb . maybe it’s still going maybe it’s not either way she made a song about it hehehe . 

BLOW YOUR MIND  ;;  someone she hates , someone that hates her , a friend a foe or a lover or maybe both ??  either way , they fight like cats and dogs bc they’re polar opposites and probably hate everything about each other ... especially the fact they’re insanely attracted to each other .  

LOST IN YOUR LIGHT   ;;  a friend she likes . a lil will they won’t they that i love bc !!!  ahhh .  anyway this song is about how she feels about them :)) they probably don’t have a clue the song’s about them or maybe they assume u choose ! 

NEW RULES   ;;  the classic toxic ex trope .  someone she still has a hard time shaking off bc she still cares about them so whenever they keep on knocking at her door in the middle of the night , despite her “ new rules “  to keep him away , she can’t help herself .  

IDGAF  ;;  an ex lover who broke her heart , so she wrote a song about him hehehehe .  

DON’T START NOW  ;;  yet another ex - lover song that turned out to be a massive bop hehehe .  

PHYSICAL  ;;  something that started out as purely physical ... a fwb of a sort , but it’s ELECTRIC , unexplainable , and despite them not being exclusive , it’s almost an unwritten thing that they care and how they have each other’s backs .  

LEVITATING  ;;  maybe someone she met on a vacation somewhere , they had one of the most amazing flings but it’s never been anything serious , but it still made an impression on her despite how short it was , so she wrote him a song too :) 

[dialingyoudarlingyou]

Fallin' all in you

Summary: Bruce has always known he loves her, but will he ever say it out loud?

warnings: fluff? hints at suggestive content, the pov shifts are weird I'm so sorry. This is based on a song! so, I hope I did justice to it. idk? this is my first fic ever-

Bruce Wayne didn’t know what was happening. He is as lost as the airplanes flying over the Bermuda triangle.

“Can you turn off the sun…” he hears a soft mumble against his chest. He looks down at her.

And fuck. His heart swells looking at her. Her lips looked so plump and beautiful, her eyes scrunched shut and her hair all over the place.

Somehow even after being in such a horrid state, she looks perfect. She always does.

“Bruce.” Her groan echoes in the room. low but sweet.

Right, he forgot to close the blinds last night when they got carried away.

“Love, it’s 7 a.m. open your eyes and wake up,” he heaves a sigh

“Yeah, well not everyone is an insomniac like you, some people treasure their sleep” she stifles a yawn, finally giving up and trying to get out of bed.

Keyword trying.

Bruce pulls her back into his embrace and wraps his arms around her waist.

“I thought it was 7 a.m.” he can hear her rolling her eyes in disapproval. So, in response he tightens his arms, indicating for her not to leave.

Funny how this was supposed to be a one-night thing. But God Bruce wants her to stay. He always does. When they have those late-night talks and she helps him with his equipment and research. He does everything in him to make her stay.

She nuzzles into his neck and this is it he thinks and then those words leave his lips finally.

“Be my love.”

There was a quick skip in someone’s heartbeat. Whether it was his or hers, he wasn’t sure.

She looks up at him, a sense of hesitation in her eyes. His heart sinks but the way she bites her lip makes him feel better.

“Say it again,” it comes out in a mere whisper, she looks at him expectantly. “Please.” She requests, hopeful, optimistic, and expectant.

He gets up instantly and the panic in her eyes is evident. She feels like she did something wrong.

“Bruce-” she speaks up but before she could complete her sentence, he picks her up bridal style, his hands holding her as if she is something delicate.

‘Is he going to kick me out?’ he can practically hear her thoughts. He internally chuckles. God this woman is going to be the death of him.

Just to pull her leg a bit he walks towards the door and she flinches, he lets out a laugh and walks to the bathroom.

He seats her down on the counter and leans forward just enough for their lips to touch. She caves in, still confused about what is going on.

He steps back as soon as their lips touch. She gasps and pouts.

“Why are you being such a tease?” she mumbles as her finger draws circles on his chest.

He smiles softly and runs his fingers through her hair. Her eyes crinkle at the gesture. She leans into his touch, though this is still uncharted territory for them.

Not that they’ve never touched. Accidental brushes of their fingers when handing things to one another, hugs when required and him making sure her clumsy ass doesn’t get herself hurt. Every time they’d pull all-nighters, she’d end up knocking down half the things. And it usually gets worse when she has coffee or anything sweet in general.

There's something about her. Something that always makes his eyes somehow land on her. No matter where or with whom they are, Bruce can never keep his eyes off of her. It's like she's the sun and he's a mere object that revolves around her. There's no doubt that she's the sun. When she smiles, his heart flutters and his natural instinct is to return it. The warmth she radiates makes him feel safe and comfortable. She’s the light he needs in his dark life. But he’s scared. He doesn’t want to consume all the light. It’s like she is the summer, the warmth and he’s a winter day.

There’s not one thing wrong that he can see between the both of them.

“Be mine,” he whispers, like a prayer, a plea, a request. She cups his face in her hands. And for the first time, she initiates the kiss.

Her lips were warm and soft. They parted slightly, allowing him to slip his tongue inside. His hands travel to her neck and stay there. She gasps at this sensation. His grip tightens. Their bodies pressed together heatedly against the counter, breathing heavily as his lips press against hers. He could taste their shared breath, and feel the thud of their combined heartbeat. Her lips were soft, they felt pillowy against his. His fingers carded through her hair as they breathed each other in. He finally lets go and looks at her. Her eyes were glossy and her pupils dilated.

“don’t…you have work, I have work.” She murmurs, her eyes say it all though, she wants him to continue. She wants more.

“I’ll call in sick. And if I don’t go there’s no point in Bruce Wayne’s assistant going." he sounds cocky but she knows he means well.

She sighs, “you do realize I have more things to do than to babysit you?” she playfully cocks an eyebrow, he huffs out a breath and puckers his lips.

She kisses his cheek softly; Bruce could get used to this. he’s been alone for so long and now…he doesn’t want to let her go.

He thought he had found love before, but all they ever wanted was Bruce Wayne, the heir of Wayne Industries, the eccentric and reclusive billionaire.

But when she came along…everything changed. He never thought he could feel like this for someone.

She brings out a different kind of him, the one that is more comfortable with accepting his alter ego as a part of his life, the one who doesn’t mind talking about his feelings to someone, the one who actually eats proper three meals every day (thanks to her)

I’m falling for you, he thinks, there’s no safety net underneath. If you break my heart, I don’t know how I’ll ever find someone half as amazing as you, he wants to say it out loud to her, he desperately does.

He wants her to know how much she means to him, now they’re trapped on a tightrope.

They’re finally free. He’s falling all in her. He imagines how his life would be with her in a couple of years.

They would probably still be living in the manor.

He knows the nights would be long for both of them as being the Batman won’t let their relationship grow rapidly, he knows they’ll have fights because of how contrasting their personalities can get but at the end of the day he knows he will love her no matter what and he hopes she will too.

He chuckles at how this was only meant to be for one night.

Maybe they can’t control what’s just not up to them.

“Bruce.” Her gentle voice breaks him out of his trance.

“Yeah, love?” her nose scrunches adorably as he calls her love.

“You still have eyeshadow on from yesterday night. You look like a raccoon I can’t take you seriously!” her voice cracks as she breaks into a fit of giggles.

Bruce peeks into the mirror and realizes she’s right. He chuckles softly and grabs the makeup wipes and micellar water.

She knows exactly what he is suggesting, she sighs and is about to take it from his hands but he places the items on the counter

She rolls her eyes and reaches out for them, while she is grabbing them, he holds onto her wrists and puts them around his neck.

“Why are you in such a rush? Is there someone waiting for you?” She notes that there’s a hint of jealousy in his tone and she sighs.

“You know damn well, there is no one but you.” she means every damn syllable.

His breath hitches. And she continues “oh come on! Bruce, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the way I look at you? have you ever thought about why I said yes to becoming your ‘man’ in the chair? Why do you think I stop by every day even when it’s an off? everyone knows and I thought it was so obvious that I-” she cuts herself off. She’s said too much.

“That you what?” He knows what she’s going to say, he just wants to have the satisfaction of hearing her say it.

“That I’m in love with you! desperately, hopelessly, completely…” her voice dies down at the end of the sentence.

“Look at me,” his voice, gentle and timid. “No, I’ll start crying if I do,” she sniffles meekly.

“I love you.” he declares and will do it a hundred times if he has to.

“Every time I see you, I get lost, every minute I spend with you feels like a dream and I wish to never wake up from it. Every night you sit with me and watch those tapes and help me solve those clues and pieces of evidence, offer me your weird snacks, and keep trying to get me to drink coffee, I fall more in love.  Last night when you fell asleep lying next to me, everything felt so right. It felt like this is how things have always been. And I realized that since you’ve come along, I’ve never felt so full and happy.” As soon as those words leave his lips, he notices tears slipping from her eyes. “Sweetheart?” he inquires.

She hugs him in response sobbing into his shoulders. “You have no clue how long I’ve been dying to hear you say those words.”

“I’m so sorry I wasted our time. If I had told you earlier-”

“it’s not your fault! Bruce, we’re both at fault for being oblivious dumbasses. I mean Alfred would say a few things that would make me a bit suspicious-” realization dwells upon both of their faces

“we’ve been idiots, haven’t we?” Bruce nudges her, light-heartedly

“Shut up.” And she pulls him into a kiss again.

[sakusafilm]

the way i loved you — miya atsumu

it's 2am and you're cursing atsumu's name, and you're so in love that you act insane.

atsumu x fem!reader, bokuto x fem!reader, love triangle (lol), cursing, fuck buddies, mentions of sex but nothing smut (just for the sake of the fuck buddies narrative), angst (?)

haikyuu boys as taylor swift songs masterlist

© sakusafilm. do not repost.

there are really just some people... who are hard to forget.

and we will never understand why... even after the toxicity, the mixed signals, the chaos— it's still gonna be that person whom we want to see when we go home. we are always willing to compromise, to ask for an apology for something we never did... as long as they are here. as long as it's them.

“thanks for tonight, kotaro.”

bokuto kotaro is a gentleman. opposite of his funny facade, you had a very intelligent talk with him. he talked about science, and you loved it because, well, you love science too. every now and then, he would throw jokes and sometimes, he's effortlessly funny as he interacts with almost everyone he sees.

you enjoyed the date, long story short. the steak was great. the view from the skytree was breathtaking. your date was dashing, you're envied by every woman who saw. it was a night well spent and a second time isn't impossible, so you agreed. you agreed when bokuto asked you if wanted to spend time with him in universal studios osaka.

you were so confident when you nodded at him, with a huge smile on your face. planning out your first itinerary which would be the attack on titan themed park and that stupidly expensive levi ackerman popcorn holder. but once you entered your apartment, dimmed lights and emptiness welcomes you again.

you sat down on the couch quietly, removing your heels and finally letting your feet rest. you feel like passing out in the couch already, yet you never realized how tired you were outside. and this is exactly why you hate being alone. it makes you tired. it's not just being alone, you feel lonely.

you shut your eyes and cursed the air.

fuck you.

fuck you, atsumu miya.

you went out today, meeting a good man who seems so willing to give you the best and then you come home and remember that jerk once again. it's insanity. it's insanity how you allowed him to claim parts of you that no one could ever know. it's insanity how you remember him even in your own home, when he probably doesn't give a fuck about you anymore the moment he walked out last month.

he won't give a fuck. you know.

in his own words, you're just my fuck buddy.

nothing more, nothing less. that's how he sees you. a person of convenience. he will kiss you when he wants to and will drop you when he's done. you're nothing to him. what's worse is you know that you will be discarded sooner or later, and still you're out here, having a hard time forgetting about that man.

in your defense, you didn't know that it would happen. when you agreed to atsumu, you also just agreed because of sex.

you hated his guts, that's why you were so confident that you won't fall in love with him. he's arrogant and egoistic. a lot of times, he thinks that he's the best in the world. he wants people to meet his standards. he was the annoying twin brother between him and osamu miya. he's obsessed with volleyball. he's always shouting.

but atsumu miya... is apparently more than that. he took care of you too—brought you medicines when you're on your period, brought you homemade food and ate dinner with you whenever you're sad. he will throw jokes from time to time, and he would laugh even before throwing it. he loves to color his hair in blonde, blue or even ash gray.

whenever he caresses you, he's always gentle. taking his time, as if you were the most beautiful girl in the world. he would shower you compliments. he would kiss your forehead. intertwining your fingers onto him.

whenever you're skin-to-skin with him, it always felt right. like he's a missing puzzle, like he fits perfectly with you.

you were confused. you don't know if it's just you romanticizing the thought of him, or it's really him trying to be romantic. you got an answer early, though. it was all a lie. or maybe, you were just delusional that you thought atsumu miya likes you.

you opened your eyes and lazily stood up from the couch when someone knocked, combing your long black hair with your fingers and fixing the tight body hugging black dress you wore tonight.

you slowly opened the door, thinking it's just the old lady next door who loves giving you side dishes. but a yellow haired boy stunned you.

wearing a black hoodie from his team, hair is down the his usual styling. hands inside the pocket of his black jeans, atsumu miya returned to you. you can't help but scoff, looking at him from head to toe. you're trying to insult him, but atsumu doesn't allow people to get to him. he doesn't care. he has a thick face. that's exactly why after everything, he still came back.

he looked at you from head to toe as well, “went somewhere?”

“yeah, i came from a date and i'm tired and i don't have the time and luxury to talk with you so fuck off and leave me alone.” you're about to shut the door but atsumu stopped it with his hand, “atsumu, i swear to god.”

“i'm sorry, baby.”

this man. you hate him so much for this. but you hate yourself even more. you hate yourself when your heart fluttered when he started calling you that common ass endearment once again. you hate how easy it is for you to soften when it comes to him.

“let me guess, the sex isn't good.” you scoffed, “i don't want to see you anymore, atsumu.”

“i'm really sorry, baby—” it took so much courage for you to slam the door in front of his face. guilt immediately rushing down through your system after what you did. and you hate that because you should never feel bad at all.

that man insulted you and made you feel like a trash. he's probably just coming back because the new girl cannot stand him anymore.

atsumu can be quite demanding and dominant. he loves to go to random late night drives, waking you up in the middle of the night and pulling you out of your bed with your pajamas on. he loves to buy shoes, so when he does that, he will also make sure to buy you one even if you don't need it. he loves taking you out to dinner dates, giving your bouquet of flowers every damn time that it almost made your apartment a flowershop this one time that he consistently did it. he will do whatever the fuck he wants. he doesn't need anyone's opinion, so you know that it's also not that easy for him to get along with so many people.

yet you were full of consideration and you understood him.

but that's over now... right? right?

“do you have a schedule later?” the next day, bokuto went to the library with you to study. something atsumu and you never did before, you never asked him because you know that he will not love the idea anyway. but here's bokuto, doing simple study dates. less extravagant, but calmer.

“later? none. if i can finish everything right now.” you chuckled, “why?”

“uh...” bokuto hesitated.

“spill it out.” you told him, he chuckled.

“i'm just not sure if you're comfortable going to this like this... but a friend of mine is celebrating his birthday and they're having an open house party later. anyone could go, so...” he smiled at you.

“i don't go to many parties but i could make time, kotaro.” you smiled.

“oh no! you don't have to if you're not comfy, __!” he scratched his nape, “you don't have to force yourself—”

you chuckled, “it's really okay. i also want to have fun.”

bokuto bit his lower lip, trying to stop himself from smiling like an idiot, “well then, i'll fetch you, later?”

you nodded, “sure thing.”

you genuinely enjoy bokuto's company. he has a good sense of humor and is very respectful to you. very opposite of atsumu's unfunny sense of humor and disrespect.

it's been a while since you last went to a house party, or just a party in general. you are scared to see atsumu again. you know he's the type of person to go to every party in town. but since the night he went to see you again, you became pretty confident. you won't take him back, but you would love to see atsumu miya beg. if you ever see him tonight, you won't back down and falter.

you wore a simple white skirt and white tank top, partnered with white balenciaga heels and accessories.

kotaro: what're u wearing?

you: why 🤨

kotaro: so we could match

you were thrilled. you sent a picture of your outfit for the night to him and when you saw him pulling a black and white attire, just perfectly matching your outfit— you felt butterflies floating in your stomach.

atsumu could never. he will be too ashamed to do this, especially with someone who is just a fuck machine to him. this will make him cringe.

“you look beautiful,” you smiled at bokuto while pitying yourself. you never heard that from atsumu in random days. he can only say that to you after you reached your high during sex. he can never whisper that to you during a drive, in the morning after he wakes up, at the library because he never went with you there.

the celebrant's house is huge. they even have a swimming pool, already packed by people you don't know so you have to remind youself to not swim tonight. it's too crowded. bokuto greeted a lot of people and all of them asked about you too.

“i'm courting her,” is all that bokuto could answer in behalf of you.

courting. you really don't believe in the idea of it. before, it just seems like another way to love bomb someone. but tonight, it felt like a compliment. it felt just right. bokuto is charming and endearing, he makes you so comfortable.

“bokuto kotaro, huh?”

in the middle of the party, you tried to search for a comfort room and parted for a bit with bokuto. and while walking through the hallways, you finally saw him.

you tried to snob him, but atsumu reached for your wrist lightly to stop you. you flinch at his touch. it suddenly feels so cold. across the hallway, you can see the time: 2am. once again.

“can you just... listen? you don't have to speak, just listen to me.” it is an understatement to say that you were shocked that he has a calm voice. he sounds different, far from the atsumu you know.

“i'm sorry.” he says, “i don't have an excuse. i was mad and i told all of that to you irresponsibly. i'm really really sorry.”

you don't know what to say because for the first time, you feel like this is a genuine apology from him. your eyes started stinging just by the thought of atsumu lowering his pride for you. you told yourself that you won't falter, that you won't back down, but the only thing you want to do right now is to pull him into a tight hug again.

“i'm really really sorry—”

“i hate you,” you looked at him. atsumu dropped his hand and caught your eyes. he nodded, as if he's already accepting that, “i hate you so much, miya.”

“i know...” he answered.

“i hate how lowly you think of me. i am not your fuck toy. i am not someone that you can just discard when you're done. you're still here, because i allow you, not because you're that great and i don't have the fucking choice!” i told him. he nodded again, “i hate how you don't call me beautiful in random days, i hate how i cannot do matching outfits with you, i hate your corny jokes, i hate your reckless ass, i hate you how you just pull me to bed for a late night drive when i am still in my pajamas. atsumu miya—”

atsumu leaned, giving you a quick kiss. caughting you off guard. it tasted like mint and alcohol. you still remember, you never forgot even for a millisecond. it tasted like toxin that you're willing to take. atsumu miya is a poison to you.

“then i'll do it.” he said, catching his breath as if he's nervous, “i'll match your outfits. i'll be a gentleman. i'll study with you. i'll be funnier. i'll ask you first, your opinions, your thoughts. every fucking thing, baby.”

your lips parted, “you're just drunk, aren't you?”

“kinda wish i am.” he answered, “but i am very much sober tonight.”

“how could you do all of that with your fuck buddy?” you scoffed.

“what the fuck is love? i am still not sure.” he answered, “but when you started making my heart race, when i felt like i fucking want to intertwine my hands to yours every damn time, it scared the fuck out of me. i am a coward, i know. i told you those words because i can't believe that it's actually happening, it sounds lame to me. it sounds uncool and you know how obsessed i am to look cool all the damn time."

you watched how he ranted his frustrations.

“you look beautiful every damn second i see you. you make me want to do the cringiest things, all the corny stuff. you make me want to compromise. to understand. to face my feelings. to stay." atsumu says, “baby,”

it overwhelmed you but you understood how it must be so overwhelming for him too. a boy who doesn't take anything seriously, suddenly feeling a rush of emotion washing through him. an unfamiliar feeling at that.

you are not expert to things like this too. so you chuckled at him. you laughed as he stared at you.

“fool.” you remarked, “do you think i am used to this? do you think that i know better than you about falling in love? i agreed to our set up because i don't want to waste my time hurting for a relationship. and still, i ended up... like that.”

your eyes met his, “baby,”

“bokuto is amazing, you know. he compliments me. he's charming, endearing. he's sensible. everyone wants to be me whenever i'm with him.” you said.

atsumu's eyebrows furrowed at you, “do i look like i care?”

and then you said, “but he's not you.”

slowly, his expression changed. he scoffed and chuckled.

“goddamn, miya, i missed screaming at you, talking and fighting with you all the damn time.” you said, “it's fucking insane. you're insane.”

”we both are.” atsumu says, pulling you close, “the way we love each other is insane... like a rollercoaster rush.”

he's right. and he's the only one you'll love the way you do.

insane.

—

come here bokuto ☹️

[mochie85]

Flashing Lights

Chapter 14 of my Mayari series.

Mayari Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Summary: It's the night of the fashion show and things finally come together for you and Loki. A/N: This entire series is inspired by songs. The complete playlist could be found here on Spotify. Word Count: Over 5.6k Warnings: slow burn, fluff, smut with no penetration Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

The tower was abuzz with excitement for the past several days. Not only was there a renovation team fixing up the damage from the night of the attack but there were people setting up for the fashion show downstairs.

Loki had not seen you all day. He couldn’t wait to see you at the show tonight and see what you would model. Whatever it was he’s sure that your grace and beauty would only amplify the garments they chose to adorn you with. He’s never been to a fashion show, so he didn’t know what to expect.

“Ok so we have to make an appearance on the red carpet,” Tony yelled over everyone gathered in the conference room. Everyone was dressed up in fancy Midgardian attire. Tony looked like a teacher yelling over his class before they embark on a field trip. “That means that we would all have to leave and then arrive in separate cars.”

“But we live here. In the tower. Couldn’t we just take the elevator downstairs to the event?” Wilson asked confused.

“No. We need to show support for our fellow Avenger who will be on the show tonight and that means walking through the red carpet.

Plus, it would be good PR and an opportunity for those bloodthirsty vultures to take pictures of us arriving.” Pepper mumbled Tony’s name under her breath, warning him to calm down. “You guys have fun, walk in with each other, talk to a few reporters. Show the world that The Avengers are people too and that we only have their best interest at heart. Maybe then the Secretary of State would get off our backs.” His sarcastic smile beaming.

“If only.” Both Lieutenant Rhodes and Pepper said simultaneously under their breaths. The team was led out the back entrances and separated into two limousines. They were driven around the block, then dropped off at the front of the tower.

Loki decided to ride in the second car, the one without the super soldiers. He sat with Thor and Jane. Even young Peter was there, who was shadowing Tony in the guise of his assistant/intern. Clint was holding hands with an alluring woman, whom Loki thought must be his wife. Even Bruce and Natasha were here and dressed elegantly.

“Natasha. It’s so good to see you out and about,” Thor casually stated.

“Thank you. I couldn’t miss Mayari doing the show. I know she still blames me for pushing her to do this. So, I want to support her. Besides, I love Victoria’s Secret lingerie. I might pick up a few items next time I go shopping.” Bruce looked flushed and uncomfortable.

Loki just looked…confused. Lingerie?! A sudden realization came into Loki’s eyes. In all his inquiries as to what a fashion show was, he should’ve asked about the brand that you were modeling for. Oh, Norns. I don’t think I’m gonna be ready for this.

The team stepped out onto a scream of people and photographers shouting to get their attention. Tony and Pepper paused now and then to wave and let any photographers take pictures. He saw that the first car had already dropped off the other team and Steve Rogers was giving an interview dressed sharply in a tuxedo.

They all made their way through the boisterous crowds and back inside the tower. Loki presented his ticket invite to a rather frenzied-looking woman with a headset. Once inside the lobby, the team mingled with other guests of the show. There were celebrities, actors, and singers. Social influencers capturing the moment on their devices as servers were passing out trays of little hors d’oeuvres. Loki was impatient to get through this crowd. He headed for the elevators and called the lift to go up to the stage area.

There were more people here than downstairs. Some guests were already seated talking with one another. An usher helped Loki find his seat. He was seated at the end of the long runway, not too far from the stage, but far enough he wouldn’t have to strain his neck to look up at the models.

Once he sat down, it wasn’t long before Thor and Jane had joined him in the seats to his right. Stark, Lady Pepper, and Parker were sitting to his left. Romanoff and Bruce were sitting behind him, along with Wanda and Vision. The soldiers, Rogers, Wilson, and Barnes had sat in front of him. He was surrounded. How did this happen? Who assigned these seats?

The lights flickered once, then twice, signaling for everyone to find their seats. The show was about to begin. The house lights were shut down as all the lighting had focused on the stage and runway. Music started playing from the band on stage. Suddenly, a voice had come on through the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen. We would like to welcome you to this year’s Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show, here at The Avengers Tower in NEW YORK CITY!” A round of applause from the audience. The announcer introduced the singer for the opening run. The lights had focused on a woman on stage, and she started dancing and singing. The beat of the song was upbeat and full of bass.

Pretty soon, models were coming out from behind the stage walking down the runway. They were wearing various forms of shorts, undergarments, and corsets. These designs don’t seem practical and comfortable. Loki couldn’t imagine you wearing any of these while training or in general. They were beautiful. Certainly works of art, but he would prefer you with nothing on anyway. At least that’s how he always fantasized about you.

He noticed that there were large monitors on each of the sidewalls and it showed backstage and all the chaos that was happening. He caught a glimpse of you laughing and getting ready with other girls before it cut to other models preparing for their walk.

“I’m gonna buy these for you.” Stark had said to Pepper.

“No, don’t,” she responded.

“C’mon. Which one do you like? Ooh, you’d look nice in that one.”

“Tony, stop” she scolded, but laughed at the same time. Just then, you walked onto the stage.

Loki could remember all the times you had made an appearance. This first time, you were wearing a sheer bodysuit covered from neck to toe with blue and silver rhinestones. Each stone was strategically placed outlining the curves of your body so that it looked like you weren’t wearing anything underneath at all. You had not transformed into your moon form, even though the moon was high into the sky by now.

You must’ve spent all day inside, Loki thought. Your hair was curled down to your waist in loose waves and a jeweled tiara on the crown of your head. You walked down the runway in your strapped six-inch heels, one hand on your hip and a gorgeous smile on your face. When you reached the end, you had stopped, winked at the audience, and turned to go back to the end of the stage with a sassy smile. You had a pair of feathered wings on your back that Loki didn’t even notice till you turned around.

You looked unbelievable. The audience had cheered for you when you first came out. They recognized who you were, and they were all going wild with applause.

Your smile and your confidence made the whole ensemble more than just clothing. It transformed it into armor. You looked every bit like the fierce but benevolent goddess you are. Loki had missed your courage. He longed to see your tenacity, to be yourself again. He knew that ever since that incident with that stool-eating swine from Tony’s party a while back, you had hidden yourself. This show will be your metamorphosis. Now he understood why you hadn’t quit.

The show continued with several other musical artists and different models displaying different outfits. If you weren’t going to go back on stage again, Loki would still die a happy man.

The second time you went on stage, Thor had to nudge Loki out of his deep thoughts. He stopped paying attention if you weren’t on. His mind still racing from the first time you appeared.

This time, you were wearing a large, pink, fur jacket, and long white socks that went as high as your mid-thigh. You weren’t wearing anything on your hair this time, but you had a sly grin on your face and black sunglasses. You had started unzipping your jacket and by the time you reached the end of the runway, you turned to show off the back of your outfit. You let your jacket fall off your shoulders to reveal a matching sports bra that crisscrossed on your back.

Written across your hips was the word ‘PINK’. You turned your head back towards to audience again to lower your glasses and wink. Who is she winking to? Loki wondered with a grin on his face. When you started walking back, you paused and started dancing with the singer. You signed the lyrics, interpreting her song while dancing along. You were having fun.

“Who knew that this would get her to come out of her shell, huh?” Romanoff said behind Loki to no one in particular.

“Now that I got a taste I think that I’d suffocate For every second that you aren’t by my side But now I’m stuck at the gate Of Lucifer’s estate I fell in love with a girl I met in Hell.”

The last theme of the night was dedicated to the Avengers. Each model came out with something that was characteristically unique for each member. The Iron Man model came out in a red metallic corset ensemble with a small, glowing arc reactor as a necklace.

“I’m definitely buying you that,” Tony said to Pepper.

“Thinking about all the things The way you pull my strings I love the way you turn me on I ain’t Hades, but I’m the king I’d do anything So that I could take you home.”

“She drove me, drove me crazy, yeah She drove me, drove me crazy, yeah She drove me, drove me crazy, yeah She drove me, drove me crazy, yeah”

The Hulk model came out with a high-waisted purple bikini, a green silk robe, and a matching bralette. The Black Widow model came out in a black skintight catsuit. It was made entirely out of lace with a matching black bikini under it. “I might have to switch up my uniform,” said Natasha.

“Ring around the rosy Pocket full of posies I’m a fucking blow all the ashes down Ring around the rosy Pocket full of posies I’m a fucking go crazy for you now.”

Rogers blushed and tried to hide behind his hands as his model came out with a short red and white striped pleated skirt and a matching blue bralette with a white star in the middle. Wilson and Barnes were heckling him but stopped when their models came out.

“Now that I got a taste I’m gonna hallucinate I think that I am tripping off your love. Started playing your games You got me in a checkmate Now you are the queen, and I’m the pawn.”

Bucky’s model had a metallic-looking glove on one arm and was wearing a leather corset with thigh-high boots. Sam’s model had the signature “Angel” wings and came out in a red and white lace number.

The next two models that came out were The Scarlet Witch and The Moon Goddess. Loki expected you to come out and represent yourself. He thought you would’ve saved your transformation until now to show off, but they got a different model instead.

She had a long white wig and had rhinestone glitter to resemble the markings of your body. As beautiful as she was, she couldn’t compare to the glory that was you when you were in your moon form, he thought.

“Thinking about all the things The way you pull my strings I love the way you turn me on. You’re the queen, so let me be your king I’d do anything so that we could rule the world.”

That was when Thor’s model came out. She was wearing a black lace bra and panty set under a long robe. The bright red robe had a long train that dragged on the floor. It wafted in the draft of the stage making it look like a cape flying in the breeze. She was holding a replica of Mjolnir, twirling in her hand.

After her, you came out.

Loki couldn’t believe his eyes. He had sat forward wanting to memorize this moment and never forget it. You had been demure up until now, not revealing much. You were wearing a dark green lace bra with matching panties. The lace looked like it was painted onto your skin. The long green robe wafted behind you mimicking a cape. It created a silk-green halo around your body, highlighting all your curves.

What made his heart stop was the circlet atop your head that looked like his horned helmet. He never thought that seeing you in his helmet would do something to him. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. A sound he was sure could be heard throughout the entire room. You had walked down the runway and stopped pausing in front of him.

“She drove me, drove me crazy, yeah She drove me, drove me crazy, yeah She drove me, drove me crazy, yeah She drove me, drove me crazy, yeah”

You winked and gave a sly smile. When you turned and walked back, the robe flowed like water behind you. The entire team had looked at Loki then. But he only looked at your retreating figure, with his mouth slightly agape.

That was so liberating. So terrifying. So foolish. So daring.

You wanted to make a statement. You wanted to free yourself and find yourself again. There were countless times you wanted to quit the show, but you struggled through.

Now, you can say that you didn’t regret a single moment. I am not ashamed of my body. It is not a weapon to be used against me. It is mine and only I have the power to do with it as I wish.

Everyone did one last encore. The girls were so much fun, and you had a blast. You walked out arm in arm with Anya, the model who was dressed as Thor. She was the closest to your height, so they paired you with her in the Avenger-themed lingerie.

Never mind that you still had to wear especially high heels to stand next to her. All the girls were tall and slim. You were fuller and stockier by comparison from your workouts and missions.

The house lights were on now, and you can finally see the audience as you walked one last time down the runway. When you got to the end, you saw your teammates front and center, giving a standing ovation.

They were hollering and clapping. You gave a big wave and smile. As you turned to go back up the stage, you briefly caught a glimpse of Loki and how bright his eyes have gotten. You could not wipe the smile that was affixed to your face.

Backstage, you had dressed back in your jeans and t-shirt. Taking off the circlet shaped like Loki’s horns, you immediately got butterflies. I wonder what he thought of tonight? When they first ran the idea through you, they wanted you to dress in your moon form, and walk out as yourself, but you had requested to go as Loki instead.

Luckily, the producers liked your idea and ran with it. Looking back to your “fake date,” you couldn’t help but wish for more nights like that with Loki. Maybe this will be the catalyst to start that, you beseeched any god or Norns, as Loki would say, to answer your prayers.

You wanted to go back upstairs to your room and dress in something more appropriate for the afterparty. Maybe get some more comfortable shoes and a bite to eat.

The floor was deserted. Boy, Tony does not waste time in fixing and cleaning, you thought as you grabbed an apple from the basket on the newly renovated kitchen island. No one was in the common area. They must all be downstairs at the party. You quickly changed into a sequined-bodice cocktail dress and put on more sensible shoes. It still had a slight heel but not the dangerous eight inches the producers made you were tonight.

As you walked towards the elevator to go downstairs, the doors dinged and opened to reveal Loki standing in the middle of the lift.

He was leaning against the rail with his hands in his pockets, legs crossed, looking down, lost in thought. He looked absolutely sinful in that gray suit jacket. The top buttons were undone on his shirt giving you a peek of his lean muscles underneath. When he looked up, he was surprised to see you standing there.

“Hi,” he breathed out.

“Hello.” You got into the elevator then. “Are you getting out?”

“No. No, I was looking for you.” You pushed the button for the floor of the ballroom. He reached out and offered his hand, and you took it. He uncrossed his legs and stood up slightly while he pulled you closer to him.

“You were looking for me?” You asked. He placed you there between his long legs as he continued to lean on the railing. He let your hands fall on his biceps as he circled your waist with his arms.

Your whole body hummed. You always got lightheaded whenever he was this close. Your body was pressed against his. You could feel the warmth of his hands on the small of your back, holding you close, not wanting you to escape.

“Yes. I wanted to see you aft…after…” he trailed off unable to finish his sentence. You bit down on your lip trying to hold back a smile. His face was so close to yours; you could feel the tickle of his breath as he spoke to you. “You were magnificent tonight, darling. But I have to ask, did you choose to wear my colors?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded. You trailed your hands up to wrap around his neck. You gently tugged at the ends of his hair causing an involuntary whimper from escaping his lips.

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious by now Loki?” your face was so close to his. Your lips brushed against his as you spoke. “I want you.”

He closed his eyes, and he crashed his lips onto yours. He almost came undone at your confession. The kiss was passionate and messy. It had a sense of urgency and longing. He placed his hand on the side of your face to get a better angle. He opened your mouth with his lips and tasted you with his tongue. A moan escaped you and he pulled you closer to his body.

The elevator stopped and you pulled away, slightly lightheaded. The bell chimed and the doors opened. Loki watched you hungrily. He wiped the smeared lipstick from your lips. And you kissed the pad of his thumb to thank him. He held on to your hand as you both exited the elevator.

You were met with flashing lights and a roar of reporters behind velvet ropes and other celebrities getting interviewed. The front entrance of the giant ballroom was sectioned off just for the press and some fans. A reporter had called your name multiple times trying to grab your attention as you wandered over.

“Mayari! You were amazing tonight! You looked absolutely gorgeous.” The reporter said.

“Thank you. Thank you.” You smiled back.

“Tell us how you got involved with the show. What made you decide to do it?” As you answered the question, you can see the reporter’s eyes lock in on your hand holding Loki’s.

There were shouts from all over the room trying to get your attention. Some were even calling for Loki. That surprised him, and he just waved in the general direction of the yelling, looking confused. That garnered more screams and yells.

“You have fans!” you whispered in Loki’s ear.

“Really? That is very unlikely.” He said escorting you back to the red carpet and on the way to the party. When you entered, numerous people greeted you. There were girls from the show saying hi, and there were other celebrities inside congratulating you.

Loki didn’t let go of your hand once. The ballroom had been decorated with an angel theme. There were gilded chandeliers and white tapestries over the ceilings. There were feathers scattered all over the floor so that when people dance or walked, it would send them in a flurry everywhere.

“Do you see anyone from the team?” You said in his ear. You figured that Loki would have a better vantage point because of his height. Plus you wanted to take advantage of the noise to be able to have his face so close to yours.

“Yes, they’re over there in the corner by a lounge area.” Loki led the way through the crowd, holding onto your hand until you came upon the rest of the team.

“Hey! There she is!” Nat surprised you from behind.

“Natasha?! You’re back. Oh, it’s so good to see you. I’m so glad you’re feeling better!” You let go of Loki to give her a full embrace. You had not seen her awake since she left for her mission. You weren’t expecting her to be able to make it tonight because she might still need time to recuperate.

“You were amazing. I couldn’t have done it better myself.”

“Of course, you would. You’re the freaking Black Widow!”

She whispered in your ear, “I see you have some new arm candy tonight.” She smiled at you then said aloud, “C’mon the rest of the team wants to congratulate you.” You took Loki’s hand and followed Natasha back to the group.

The rest of the night was filled with drinks and laughter. You introduced Sam and Bucky to some of the girls in the show with you. And you must admit, the sight of the two soldiers side by side, with their smiles and charm on, was disarming to anyone with a pulse. So, you left them to their own devices.

A pair of strong arms encircled your waist from behind. You tensed for only a moment until the familiar chill ran up your spine and you relaxed. “May I have this dance, goddess divine?” His voice was so deep, almost like a growl. Loki’s lips were close to your ear, and you could hear his staggered breathing. It sent the most delicious tingle throughout your body.

You bit down on your bottom lip, and you smiled, “I thought you’d never ask.” He twirled you away, only to pull you closer back into his arms. You were face to face now, looking up into his eyes. You traced his brows with your finger and studied his face.

“Eyes blue like the Atlantic, and I’m going down like the Titanic.”

He smirked when he heard you sing. He didn’t feel a commanding compulsion, just a general warmth. The song that was playing was annoyingly fast-paced with no sense of rhythm. But you were both contented just swaying softly looking at each other eyes.

There was only half of the team left. Most of the others, who had significant others with them, already left. If you were being honest, you looked like you were getting tired as well. You tried to stifle a yawn and act like it was just a sigh. But Loki caught it and rubbed you gently on the back.

“Have you gotten your revels in, pet? Do you wish to retire?” He asked you.

“Kind of, it’s been a long day. My feet are killing me.”

“Then let’s take our leave.” You liked how he said ‘our’ implying he wanted to leave with you. You just nodded your head at him and the two of you said your goodbyes to your friends.

Click. Clack. Click.

The sound of your heels resonated in the empty common room and amplified in the hallway. You reached your door and you shyly turned around to face him.

He was unexpectedly close to you. His sudden proximity surprised you. His lean body pushed you up against your door and you could feel your dress bunch up from being caught in between your bodies. He had his right elbow leaning against the door behind you, trapping you. His left hand is on your waist gripping you tightly. He whispered to your lips.

“Kitten, if you feel uncomfortable, tell me to stop, and I will leave. No guilt, no strings attached. I will gladly come back tomorrow so we can spend more time together and explore this. But if you’re ready. And only if you’re ready. Please. Invite me in.” You took a moment to think about his words. Not because you were considering telling him to leave, but because he was so mindful of you and your feelings.

“Would you like to come in?” You asked breathily.

“I’d like that very much.” He sighed. You opened the door and walked in towards your seating area. You had dropped your purse down onto the coffee table and turned on a few lamps.

“I apologize for the mess. I was in a hurry before the show.” You turned to face him, and he had the most predatorial look of lust on his face.

He slowly sauntered over to you. His jaw was tight, taking in slow deliberate breaths through his nose. He looked into your eyes as he held your face in between his large hands. His soft lips crashed onto yours as he tilted your head and kissed you deeper. He was so commanding, but at the same time so gentle.

Your fingers gripped his hair to hold your balance. His hands explored your back, down the curve of your cheeks to your thighs. He gathered the skirt of your dress, bunching it up against the back of your legs.

His hands caressed your thighs and he lifted you to straddle him as he sat down on the sofa. All while never breaking his lips from yours. When you both landed on the couch, you could feel his hard bulge push against your entrance which made you whimper a moan.

“Do you like that kitten?” He asked trailing kisses down your jawline.

You panted a very deep, “Yes,” and you started grinding up and down on his growing erection.

His hands slid under your dress and squeezed your hips closer to his body. He was getting more prominent now and you could feel him shudder in response under you.

Loki relished all the sensations he was receiving. He could feel your kisses on his skin. He felt your tongue licking where his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down on his throat. He could taste your peach-flavored lip gloss. And he could hear your sultry moans as his hands traveled throughout your body.

You reached down to unfasten his pants. The sound of his belt was sharp inside the dark room. You rubbed him through the fabric of his underwear. His bulge growing bigger. His moans getting louder. He was a whimpering mess under you. Your hands left his hard shaft, and you ran your fingers through the sides of his hair so you can bring his lips closer to your mouth. He returned your kiss with such ferocity.

“Take off my jacket.” He said, as his tongue left your upper lips. He leaned forward, pushing you backward, to give you more room. His hands behind you, catching you so you don’t fall. You spread your hands under his jacket to peel it off him. When he rested back on the sofa, you started unbuttoning his shirt feeling his taut muscles underneath. His kiss never leaving your mouth. When you got to the last button, you brushed up against his him, making him moan. A sound that was so addicting, you wanted to hear it over and over again.

You freed him from his pants and started pumping your hands along his shaft, up and down.

He was twitching in your hand. His breathing got heavy. He grew harder and thicker with each pump. “Umhmm, your hands are amazing.” His head resting on the back of your sofa. “S’good. Fuck. Feelsogood.”

He could feel how wet you've become when he started to rub your clit through your lace panties. He slid the gusset to the side and started rubbing you with his thumb.

He was so hard, you wondered what that would feel like against your throbbing cunt. The thought making your walls squeeze at nothing, making you feel empty.

“Strokemebaby…yes…let me feel how wet you are for me.” With one hand holding his shoulder, you rubbed his cock against your wet folds. You continued to pump him against your wet heat. Rubbing against that sensitive nub of yours. Grinding him up and down. You slid him in between you, “Oh, Loki.”

“Cum for me darling,” he whimpered in your ear. That sent you on a euphoric spiral of pleasure. You squeezed him hard with your hand. You tossed your head back with a strangled moan and he bit the base of your neck which elicited a louder scream from you.

He gave in to his urges then and shot ropes out onto your still moving hands. He trailed kisses up your neck as you came down from your orgasm. When he reached your lips, he kissed them once, twice, three times before he bit your bottom lip.

Panting, coming down from your high, you wrapped your arms around him, “I think I made a mess.”

“Yes, you naughty girl.” He said in a deep growl. You let out a small moan and closed your eyes relishing his words. He chuckled as he squeezed your hips. He’s going to file that little reaction for later.

He waved his hands and used his seidr to clean you both dry. His cock was still out, the length still impressive, resting on your stomach. You rested your forehead on his and smiled. “Come, let’s get you to bed,” he spoke.

You tensed a little and hoped he didn’t notice. As much as you enjoyed him, you didn’t want it to go any further. Yet. There were some things you wanted to talk about with him first. He must’ve felt your hesitation, “You look tired, love, ravishing, but tired.”

“Ok.” You bit down on your bottom lip. “Will you stay, just a little bit longer?”

“I’ll stay as long as you allow me.”

“Hm. Don’t say that. I might not let you go.” You kissed the side of his lips.

“Then, milady, I would be a very willing and happy prisoner.”

You gave him another quick kiss on his lips and got up to go to your ensuite. “I’m gonna get ready for bed. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable.” He pulled you back down for another kiss before letting you go. You can’t help the shy grin permanently glued to your face.

Once you had done your nightly ritual of washing your face and brushing your teeth, you left to face the god of mischief in nothing but a tank top and panties.

He wasn’t on your bed like you had anticipated. Neither were your pillows and blankets. Instead, he was sitting by the large windows in your seating area. He had changed into his henley pajamas and made a makeshift bed in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows.

You hadn’t had the courage to sleep by the window since the night of the attack. Frankly, you missed it. But you’ll gladly do it if it meant Loki would be with you. You turned off the lamps on your way over to him. The only light was the moonbeams coming in from the windows. He turned when he heard you approaching. “Come here, love,” he said as he reached out a hand to you.

When your hand came under the moonlight, your markings had started to show. Faint at first, but the more you stepped into the light, the further their reach onto your skin they went. He could trace the lines of arrows and symbols up your arms, around your shoulders, and down into your chest. Your hair glimmered into a silvery blue, emanating its own light.

You knew your eyes would be next. You didn’t want to scare Loki away. Sometimes people didn’t like to see almost-white eyes looking back at them. When you finally sat on your knees in front of him, he gently grabbed your chin to make you look his way. The adoration on his face. The awestruck stare he gave you, melted your heart. “You don’t think I look odd?” you asked.

“Darling, I can think of a million different words to describe you right now, in any language, in all the nine realms. Not one of them is odd,” Then he signed, “You are beautiful.”

You got up on your knees and leaned over to kiss him. He grabbed your waist to turn you around. Your back to his chest, never breaking your kiss. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. His hand on your neck and his thumb brushing your cheek. You stayed that way for a little while longer, until he asked, “I would like to properly court you, my darling girl. Would you go out with me again?”

“Our first real date?” You teased.

⬅️ Chapter 13: Crush | Chapter 15: Put On Repeat➡️

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